Repeat the sounding joy
I saw a mockingbird today, full of sass and spunk as it flipped its tail on the branch of a still dormant crepe myrtle tree.
“Funny brash bird,” I thought as I pulled out of the parking space in front of that tree.
Brash, indeed. Neighborhood cats who normally make a meal of small birds slink in fear of the kamikaze action of a ticked-off mockingbird. It’s rather entertaining, unless you’re the cat.
Mockingbirds have a habit that I find both maddening and beautiful. They can imitate the songs of many other birds, and they do so loudly and for long periods of time. It’s pretty cool. Except…at 3:00am.
I can’t count the number of summer nights were I’ve awakened to the sound of a mockingbird hollering its fool head off. I don’t understand that behavior. It seems to me that the goofy bird is announcing its whereabouts to every predator within earshot, and as loud as it is, I’m sure earshot is actually a good piece away.
But then again…it’s singing in the dark. It isn’t singing because the sun is shining and it’s easy to see a bug dinner go flying past. It’s singing when it’s difficult to see, when most other birds are tucked away with their heads under their wings, waiting on the sunrise. It is boldly offering beauty in dark places.
And even on the nights I can’t sleep, that’s a beautiful thing.