An English In Kentucky


















April 11th 2010    Tim Candler

    Thrashers in my experience of them have tended to remain secretive.   I catch a glimpse of them amongst leaves.  Sometimes they foray onto mowed grass in a manner that I think of as nervous.   This year I have seen Thrashers emulate their Mockingbird cousin.   High in a Cedar tree bravely extemporizing in a most enthusiastic way.   The effort appears to require much agility with tail feathers.

    The third member of the Mockingbird triumvirate of cousins is a Catbird, and when I first heard a Catbird I thought it was a mewing.  I left what I was doing to hunt it down.   Sometimes the cowardly will drop cats off in places they think abandoned, and I had assumed the sound I heard belonged to such a frail hearted act.   

    I could say the Catbird is secretive.   I could say he is heard more than he is seen.  But in that land some call scrubland a Catbird is confident.  Where there are trees interspersed with shrubs and bits of grass that can never be mown, Catbirds own their world. 

    He was sitting in branches watching me as I blundered about issuing "kitty-kitty".  I caught the Catbird's eye and in my ignorance I guessed he too was concerned with a thrown away cat.   And needless to say I spent considerable hours hunting down that cat because every time I called it quits, I heard the mew of someone apparently lost and lonely and frightened.     

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