This morning while peeking from Dad's window, we two saw a small sample of the birds Rivergarth harbors; a brown creeper wending its way up the trunk of the white pine; a crimson cardinal at a distance in a bush; a flock of juncos stuffing up on sunflower seeds; two, precious chickadees; and not least, Sigurd's seers, the nuthatches, our white-breasted species.
From the Lay of Fafnir (Bellows' trans.): "But when Fafnir's heart's-blood came on his tongue, he understood the speech of birds. He heard nut-hatches chattering in the thickets."
To hear what Sigurd might have heard, click here and play.