It was easier, now, to do this, and his head had recovered its feeling of normality, though it still ached ferociously.
At the same instant, through the open doorway, from across the lawn in the direction of the secret path, came the quaveringly sweet trill of a mocking bird's song.

Despite himself, Gavin's glance turned toward the doorway.
"That's just a mocker," Milo explained, loudly, his face reddening as he looked in perturbation at his guest.

"Sweet, isn't he?
They often sing, off and on, for an hour or two after dark." "I know they do," said Gavin (though he did not say it aloud).
"But in Florida, the very earliest mocking bird doesn't sing till around the first of March.

And this isn't quite the middle of February.

There's not a mocking bird on the Peninsula that is singing, yet.