Every May, there's a warbler I listen for with more than my usual anticipation of hearing the returning migrants. I listen intensively for the high-pitched, four-phrase song of the Black-and-White Warbler in the hope that for one more year, at least, my hearing will be good enough to perceive the notes. The upper end of everyone's auditory capability is usually the first range to go when you get older, and things are measurably worse for people who've abused their hearing when they were younger. That was, in my teens, definitely me: I was a wannabe rock star back then, and I used to come out of gigs with the "sound of silence" in my ears. Luckily, my hearing continued to repair itself, and, truth be told, we didn't overwhelm our hearing with loud sound columns for very long, or, for that matter, very often. In my 20s and beyond, I went completely acoustic and rarely used amplifiers. Praise the inner ear hair cell repair facility! This morning, when I spotted the first Black-and-White and listened to it hit the high notes, I heard every bit of the welcome, welcome performance.