Quiet days: the little frogs have croaked and croak no more, and the bedlam of songbirds has abated, though the air is rent occasionally by the loud gronks of ravens or the piercing shriek of a pileated woodpecker swooping through a clearing in the forest, a flash of punk-red hair.
2006, Terrence Rundle West, Run of the Town, page 153:
Silence rang in my ears, punctuated by the occasional gronk of the ravens, as they flitted about in the spruce trees.
While Rune nibbled at the gluey remains of something washed onto the shore, Asa followed the raven's flight. It circled overhead at first, eyeing her warily and gronking intermittently, then tipped its wings and flapped away.
A raven gronked deep in the forest, and the Elwha threw reflections of sunlight on the rocks as McMillan stood on a gravel bar, flicking a dry fly onto the river's surface.
2017, Robert Michael Pyle, Where Bigfoot Walks: Crossing the Dark Divide, unnumbered page:
The rush of water behind me, the soft drip from the trees, ravens gronking far off—these were the only sounds I heard.
