Yet another cool, dreary day, and while this untoward weather is to be embraced for its potential to unleash Gypsy-Moth-killing fungi, it isn't too good for photographers eager to put some miles on their feet and lenses. So, because I didn't get that Nikon rain-jacket when it was on sale at B&H Photovideo, I opted to stick close to home. But that turned out to be a blessing, because when I walked down the driveway—at least it was a walk—to pick up the newspaper and the mail, I had the prescience to travel with the Sigma supertelephoto affixed to the camera, and when I got out to the street, I heard a commotion coming from a very cooperative bird: a Carolina Wren. You can tell its identity by the white stripe, technically known as a supercilium, above each eye, and if you needed another reliable sign, there's that voice, which most authorities render as "teakettle... teakettle... teakettle..." The song is loud and unsubtle, really quite pretty in fact, and the birds are not shy about drawing attention to themselves. I called. It called back. I raised my camera and focused, it started posing. You can't ask for more than that.