Just so the Audubon Society doesn’t get all excited and send hate emails, let me begin by saying that I love birds. Today, however, I am not particularly fond of one certain Mockingbird. And, the feeling is mutual, I am sure.
Here’s what happened. I went to visit a friend who lives about a mile inland. When I pulled into her drive this dang Mockingbird did one of those dips at my head as I got out of the car. I had not been there long enough to get the bird upset or anything so I figured it was having a bad day and intent on making mine a little worse, too.
I put my hand up over my head — not much protection but the best I could do at the time. The bird did another one of those dives at my head. I ran onto the screened porch to seek refuge. My friend came out carrying a pitcher of lemonade and invited me to have a seat on her porch. Well, I was quite willing to do that. She has one of those wonderful screened porches that is so common to older homes in the area.
“I see she’s after you.” My friend laughed.
“She?”
“The bird.”
Well, yeah! The bird had been attacking or attempting to. I asked what was up. That’s when Lucille pointed to the baby bird on the drive, just a few feet from where I had parked.
“It’s been going on all morning.” Lucy began to explain but stopped short. “Just drink your lemonade and watch.”
I enjoyed this morning like no other in recent memory. There were two adult Mockingbirds. I suppose they were the parents of the fluffy baby one on the drive. Anyway, the little one was practicing wing stretches and flutters. It even did a few hops and tried a running take-off. It never left the ground but any failure to fly was not for want of parental support. The parent birds had cleared the “runway” and were chirping encouragement every flutter of the way.
That would have been enough entertainment, but when the wildlife becomes active, it all gets into the play. Two squirrels appeared and circled an old oak tree several times. That set off the Mockingbirds. The squirrels were too busy chasing one another to care about big birds or baby birds. Chip and Dale (Lucille’s names for them) continued to play their way up and down the trunk of the tree.
Then, a tiny little rodent appeared. Looked like a chipmunk to me. Anyway, one of the big birds took a dip at it. Somehow the little thing managed to escape by ducking into a hole in the ground. Then, the cat appeared.
Apparently, baby birds have not been conditioned to become fearful or even notice cats when they are in the learning to fly phase. Or, maybe they know the big birds will protect them. I don’t know. For all the baby bird didn’t know, it was more than obvious that the fat Siamese had no interest in the baby beyond a quick glance. In fact, I think the fat cat rubbed his way around the corner of the house never leaving the protection of the yucca bushes.
When I asked Lucille if the cat was always so oblivious to birds, she called the cat to come onto the porch. The cat is not oblivious. The cat has a healthy respect for birds and deservedly so, as indicated by the hole on its head. Yep, the same pair of birds had pecked the cat just the day before on Junior’s first day of flight training.
Ocho — the cat — was apparently relieved to be behind the screen of the porch. Lucille and I drank a whole pitcher of lemonade right by ourselves this morning. And we laughed until we cried at the entertainment provided by those small and often taken for granted animals that inhabit our yards.
Today I am thankful for my friend, Lucille, and the natural entertainment that seems to surround her.
