Sounds of Earth

Earth, the mother of us all, speaks to us in various ways. Sometimes her sounds are pleasing to the ear. Birds of the morning sing, warm spring winds rustles the new leaves on the trees, young squirrels, bushey tails aloft, chatter to each other as they peel acorns and morning doves coo the sun up. Sometimes her sounds assail the ear: wind howling across mountain tops, the startling crack of trees breaking in Hurricane winds, the fearful on-rushing railroad sound of a tornado when it touches ground. This morning, as the oil well drilling continues south of my woods (like a giant dentists drill) the earth is emiting loud groans like the giant bit was hitting nerves deep within the earth.
It's still turkey hunting season here. A hunter walks out of the woods across the road from my porch. He's a neighbor and I yell at him, "See or hear any turkey?" He shakes his head 'no', throws his arms up and yells back, "I don't know where they've went this year!" and walks off, head down, looking for the elusive track. But he's a man of the woods and he knows, as I know, the gobblers have moved miles away from the maddening sound of the earth groaning, sometimes horrendously enough to carry for many miles.