When I was a boy, our front porch was right outside my bedroom window. I had a bicycle with hi-rise (butterfly) handlebars on the porch, directly outside my window.
I didn’t need an alarm clock.
For whatever reason, from early Spring (even earlier now) a mockingbird would sit on those handlebars and go through his entire repertoire several times each and every morning beginning at early morning twilight. I’d lay there and listen to this mockingbird run through this cycle every morning, not 10 feet away, almost literally in my ears. Oh, yeah. No air conditioning. The window was open. This bird came back season after season from the time I was an early teenager until I left home. I knew it was the same bird, since his pattern of song was cyclic and at least to me, predictable.
It was at this time that mockingbirds actually became my favorite avian beast.
So I was walking through the house on Sunday afternoon and couldn’t help but notice that one of our mockingbirds was back and really carrying on in the Yaupon Holly in front of the house. I stopped and listened for awhile. I went up to the window and carefully leaned out so as not to startle him, and there he was. Not 5 feet away. He would just turn his head from side to side, keeping an eye on me, but still running through his cycle. I probably stood there for 5 or more minutes watching and listening. Brought back many fond memories.
Then I noticed it. This mockingbird only had one leg. His left one was missing. At first, I thought maybe he just had it tucked up under his hindquarters, but I was looking from the behind at him, and no, he had no left leg. I thought to myself “how sad. Here he is trying to mark his territory with his song and attract a mate, but yet he only has one leg”. But still he carried on as if nothing was wrong.
Well, nothing was wrong. He never knew anything but a right leg. He grew up that way. And didn’t give it a single mockingbird-thought.
This morning? He had moved into the pine tree and was the loudest thing on the block, even though the temperature had dipped down to around 30.
I have no great moral conclusion here. I *could* get on my horse and ride off in different directions, political, moral, theological, etc., but so could you.
I just love mockingbirds. Especially the brave ones.
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1 comment:
Gary,
Just found out about your blog this mornning.
I had a similar experience as a child while growing up about as deep in the coal minning area of eastern Kentucky as you can get.
Outside of my bedroom was a big silver maple tree. A pair of Kentucky Cardinals would be in that tree every morning. They did not sing much, but their beauty mesmerized me. I was usually outside playing under that tree. It was probably the only time I was still during the whole day.
The ostentacious male would preach to the dull colored female, but she seemed to go about just doing her daily work despite his gripping. I think he was a complementarian, but I do not think she was.
Phil.
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