Caterwauling
I recently picked back
up the recorder after dabbling in it briefly in fourth grade and
college. Interestingly, the experience is very different this time
around.
Sheet music lessons my
mother gave me when I was a kid suddenly click into place. (Well, some
of them.) I realize the recorder is the childhood instrument of choice
because running up from the bottom to the top is a scale starting at C
and ending at B.
And, on the negative
side, my cats remind me vocally that shrill noises aren't necessarily
pleasant on the ears. Here, Huckleberry is doing his best to cover up
my sheet music so I can't play. Strider is hiding under the trailer
waiting for the caterwauling to stop.
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About us: Anna Hess and Mark Hamilton spent over a decade living self-sufficiently in the mountains of Virginia before moving north to start over from scratch in the foothills of Ohio. They've experimented with permaculture, no-till gardening, trailersteading, home-based microbusinesses and much more, writing about their adventures in both blogs and books.
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My parents were professional musicians. I was taught piano when young and tried my hand at other instruments. When I tried to teach myself clarinet, however, my mother always said, "put that down before you cut yourself!" (Apparently this is a musicians insider joke.) So I understand the cats' reactions.
Keep playing. The cats will eventually get used to it.