Everyone who hadn't already dropped their forks and knives does so now. In one enormous shared motion the café patrons sit just a little taller as they begin to sing The Fox Went Out on a Chilly night at the tops of their lungs and in full, spontaneous harmony. It isn't enough to drown out the mudcops, rather it knits together the wail and twang into a poignant whole. Harmi's eyes fill as she sings,
    "...Old mother flipper flopper jumped out of bed..." A tear drops to the her apron at, "...there were the little ones, eight, nine, ten..." She is recalling the pack of coyo-dogs that came through last week and halved the local flock of pigeons.