unsigned · cast 1822 · ninety-six pounds
a thin, high voice — almost a whistle if you have only heard it from the next field. up close, beneath the belfry, it is a clean middle tone, rung once, twice, three. the rope hangs down through a hole the size of a hat.
the verger pulls it before light, before he has spoken to anyone. nothing makes him stop except the swallows: there is a nest under the lip in summer, and the rope is left tied to the post until the chicks are away.
field-note · the sound goes further over wet grass than over dry. the verger knows this without thinking about it.
tea bell · school bell · steeple swallow · dawn · ritual