Mr. Mocker

Living on a farm you get to know the wildlife that shares your space, much like you do neighbors in a subdivision.  Just like in a town, some of your neighbors are friendly and immediately want to get acquainted, some are stand-offish and you only see them occasionally, some are fun, some are a nuisance and some are just unforgettable. 

We share our yard with a loudmouth, brash, mischievous, jester of a mockingbird.  I don't know how long mockingbirds live, but if this isn't the same one then he really does pass his characteristics down to his children.  Frankly, if cats have 9 lives, then this bird must have a 100 to have survived. I think everything on the farm has suffered from his bent sense of humor.

One time I was out in the yard hanging out clothes when I noticed one of the mama cats acting strangely.  She would look under this bush and then that bush as though she was searching for something.  She kept up this behaviour for some time before I realized I was hearing a kitten.  Every so often the distinctive "meow" of a kitten would sound out.  The problem was that it would come from a different bush each time.  Sure enough, there was Mr. Mocker having a wonderful time driving that poor mama cat nuts looking for the lost kitten.

We have a big tom cat that hangs out on the back porch.  Every day that mockingbird sits on the railing and teases the cat.  First he will just sit on the railing, then he hops down on the back of the bench, then he'll move ever closer and closer.  Each time he shows supreme indifference to the cat, continuing his singing as though he was the only being on the planet.  When the cat can't stand it any longer and tries to pounce on him, Mr. Mocker flits away and literally laughs in his face.  Of course, there was the one day when I heard an awful ruckus on the porch and looked out the door to discover Mr. Mocker had tried his game on my best mouser and she had proved quicker than he was.  Naturally, I rescued him to torment another day. 

One Christmas the wreath on the back door proved to be more fun than he could ignore.  First he tried to eat all the berries.  They proved to be unappetizing and resistant to his attempts to pluck off.  While he was struggling he discovered a new game.  In snatching for the berries he was making a tapping noise on the door, which resulted in me running to answer the door.  It didn't take long for him to decide this was more fun than berries.  After that he would entertain himself by sitting on the wreath and knocking on the door.  He seemed utterly delighted at our exasperation when we answered the door and would sit on the porch chair and make chuckling noises in his throat. 

For all his being a nuisance, he is a chorus of music.  Mockingbirds are well named.  They can duplicate any bird song and lots of other sounds.  One of my delights is to be in the yard when he decides to present a concert.  He'll arrange himself on a perch in plain sight, for all the world like a singer approaching a podium on a stage.  Then he'll do a few trills and bits to warm up.  When he is satisfied he is ready, he then launches into a full scale aria.  It's like a symphony of birds.  There are the soft trills of the wren, the harsh chuckles of the jay, little coos of the dove, soaring notes of the lark and on and on.  I hold my breath as I listen in wonder.  When he finishes he puffs his chest out, points his long tail feather out proudly and stands as though waiting through the prolonged applause of the crowd. 

Mr. Mocker you are a maestro.