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April 17th 2010    Tim Candler

     Those characteristics of the Close Mockingbird that have put him into the category of cad are haunting him as the hour turns to midnight.   He calls to the darkness worse than a barking dog.   Or maybe not.

     Last night I heard him in the leaves of the Alatus bush outside the room where I sleep.  His song I suddenly thought endearing because there was no bossing Chickadee, or Starling or irritated Wren.    He practiced Meadowlark with those high end tones which probably dogs can hear better than I can.  And then in the distance something tuneless decided it was time to add a chorus.

    Damn if I don't mostly hate dogs.  Quite what they do for people I do not know.  But perhaps for some they are the Close Mockingbird.  Their yapping and howling and doltishness may indeed be endearing for those who require those sorts of things from something else.   But give me a best friend with feathers who feeds himself.

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