An English In Kentucky


















Sunday April 6th  2014  Tim Candler


      The Close Mockingbird could have some kind of issue.  His cough is Ok, and he has a true calling when it comes to singing. No damage by Privet Berry Cough to his vocal chords. There's an Ornamental Cherry which gives him a good view, and he can spend an hour or two taunting the neighborhood from the top of it.  And from that Ornamental Cherry he can see his Privet, he can see his Alatus and the other day he saw a Girl Mockingbird staring at his Privet  Neither of us was quite sure who she is, or where she might have come from. Nor is it really my role in life to spend the odd hour curious about this Girl Mockingbird, but I did see him permit her to take a few berries from his Privet. And this is the sort of observation that can make a person reckon there could be woo in the Close Mockingbird's mind, and that his call and bravado, his border wars with the Cedar Mockingbird might all have a sound basis within the imperative of  handing down his seed so future generations might benefit. Which is a kind of boy thing I've been informed, and also a  complete mystery to me is what the other side of the equation sees in it.


     Last year he took up with a girl, who was obviously very dissatisfied by him.  At her first opportunity she sprung her nestlings, made no attempt at a second brood and went off somewhere into the hinterlands where it's people with dogs and chain saws and a fondness for automatic hunting rifles and church going. But it is possible she's returned.  The Close Mockingbird does have an excellent territory. He has his own person to throw the odd stone at a Merlin whose trespass upon his kingdom can lead to a Mockingbird demise. And Merlin's are aggressive little bastards with appalling manners and no sense of shame, and better hope that  a Merlin never decides to nest anywhere near you, because such a circumstance might well call for automatic hunting rifles. Then the other day the Girl Mockingbird was looking cute around his Privet. He did a little purring, looked rather pleased with himself, and I thought "here we go, something to keep him occupied!" Then quite suddenly he seemed to completely lose his mind. He flew at her in foul temper. Clearly something's up with him, and I really have to come to a conclusion that it's not actually my business, particularly when I'm terribly behind in bed preparation.


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