I thought it was a Phoebe on the wheel
barrow, but it was too big and its lower tummy had a hint of green yellow.
I had expected a Phoebe and my mind clung to the idea of a Phoebe because it seemed
too early in the year for a King Bird.
It looked at me briefly. We had that
moment of introduction without ever quite catching each other's name and
then the Mockingbird appeared, as he often does at this confusing time
If I had wings I would like to be a King
Bird. I wouldn't be able to sing
worth a damn, but I would be able to make a great deal of noise. I
would have fifteen inches of wing, I would weigh a little under two ounces
and from head to tail I would be about nine inches.
I would spend my vacations eating fruit
somewhere in South America. And I would return to Kentucky for the
long summer days where I would eat insects, the biggest I could find.
But in return for such bliss, I would
pay a price. For a month or so I would be almost completely insane.
Stars, moon and tides would combine to give me a tunnel vision that would
make all other species nervous of me. Anything larger than a fruit
fly near my nest would be subject to attack. Including those
helicopters that apparently troll for illegal crops.