A terrestrial globe, engraved, turning on its stand. Ride the ring down the brass meridian and it stops on a latitude — and everything iNaturalist has ever recorded singing between those two parallels begins, at once, as loudly as everything else. The light on the globe is this minute's: the sun's place is computed from the clock, and the vermilion arc is where dawn is breaking right now.
Ride the ring. Whatever is singing at that latitude will sing here.