Beneath the Bond: Unraveling Secrets in Andrew Miller’s My Guys
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I have an app on my phone that identifies birds by their songs. The app’s hearing is better than mine; it easily picks up the faraway moan of a ground dove or the sad flute of a wood thrush. It alerts me to the bluebirds, cardinals, doves, house finches, and chickadees in my backyard.
In the prison yard, mockingbirds and chickadees flit from building to building. Sparrows congregate in long, swaying lines on the razor wire. Every so often, they drop to the ground and peck for seeds and insects. When disturbed, they burst into the air and sail over the fence. For them, escape is easy.
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