I'll admit--hearing the same tweet approximately 420 times per hour started out as tedious, but I eventually paid close attention to the pattern.
There's something special about this bird I recall musing.
It was only a week or two before it quit it's perch when winter neared that I was able to put a name to the pattern. The bird would chirp frantically for five seconds, then sing the same three notes, then the intonation of a last fourth note would rise significantly. Immediately after, it would lower it's pitch and slow down, asking the same four note question.
I'm home again, but only for the weekend. Instead of that old bird waking me up every morning, it's awkward distant cousin shrieks, "Soot soot--TRILLLLLLL!" at me instead about three hours into the morning when I'm already awake.
Though the old bird's incessant pondering made it nearly impossible to go back to sleep, there was something to be said about it's diligence; it would ask the same question every morning, over and over again, until it decided it was time to accomplish whatever important tasks birds have to do all day.
The question could have been one of those difficult one's that no one can really answer. It could have been a fairly simple question, just being asked in the wrong direction.
There are endless possibilities to the meaning of the last four notes--ranted in a frenzy the first time, but then solemnly reiterated soon after...
It scares me to think that the bird might have given up. After waiting too long for an answer, it moved on to a completely different life. It could be asking the same question somewhere else, hoping the right person will finally hear, but I really wish it would come back and continue it's questioning where I can hear it.
It could help me start asking again too.