About 4:45 this morning I awoke to a symphony of one. Thanks to the fetus, I had to go to the bathroom, and probably would have woken up anyway. I was just lying there listening to the array of calls coming from this bird. It was sort of like every single songbird, combined into one.
Never having heard a mockingbird before, it did cross my mind, but I was having much more fun concocting the story of an escaped pet parrot who had been out in the wild for so long that he eventually adopted all the other birds' calls. I really would have liked to have been sleeping, but I was pretty amazed by the impersonation skills of this feathered fellow.
After a half hour or so, Ib got out of bed and I heard the back door open. A few minutes later, I heard the "SNAP" of the BB Gun and the bird ceased his incessant concerto. I decided I probably wasn't going to get any more shut-eye, so I got up to get ready for work. I was met by Ib, coming back down the hall, naked as a jay-bird himself. I asked if he'd shot the bird, and he said it was too dark for him to see where it was, but he definitely aimed in it's general direction.
15 minutes later, the bird started again.
And if that mockingbird don't [quit] sing[ing],
Daddy's gonna buy him a bigger gun...
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