From the thud of the stick to its head, we surmise it must be a giant marching band drum strapped to the back of someone a few balconies up. Deep, heavy, slow, persistent is the opening of the 7pm beat, setting off hoots and hollers, pots or pans, hands clapping, really anything that makes noise in an otherwise serene neighborhood. Rather like hooves landing hard on cobblestone, and others following suit -- the crescendo of a herd thundering a few minutes into the hour dissipates to the softer sound of hooves in grass, more like a heartbeat when your ears are pressed close to another's ches...