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May 7th 2011    Tim Candler

    For myself I am happy the Close Mockingbird is not an Elephant because a ripening Strawberry casts an excitable shadow which a Mockingbird finds irresistible.

    Others have suggested bird-netting.  An offer that turned me into a thesaurus of memory and diatribe. I gave the speech in which death by net was minutely described.  Worse than careless water-boarding I insisted.  But how weightless a dead bird is with his feathers, his beak and his little curled toes.

     I suppose it is the random pecking of anything with redness that distresses The Artist.  She views it as unnecessary vandalism rather than a tribute to a glorious and insatiable curiosity that exists in the mind of a Mockingbird.

     The shadow of death indeed.  Now several hours a day The Artist wanders through Strawberries turning those of them which hint at ripeness.  And I have heard of others who practice this same ritual.  So best not to mention the nighttime habits of the garden Field Mice otherwise darkness might come alive with rushing around, loud noises and flashlights.

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