There is a dead tree near the south western edge of Col. Sam Smith Park that is a haven for Purple Martins, especially juveniles, in late summer.
The Purple Martin makes a very loud whistle call with a curious resonant quality, as if given in a great hall or between tall buildings.
Here shall my heart find its haven of calm,
By rush-fringed rivers and rain-fed streams
That glimmer thro’ meadows of lily and palm. – Sarojini Naidu (1879–1949)