Sorry, You’re Not Exactly My Type

I’m strolling by an old oak, and as I approach am hearing a fantastic avian aria. I expect that, as usual, that little singer will fall suddenly silent when he senses my approach. Bet when I walk up to the low branch where he sits, on he goes.

There sits a feathered dandy, a handsome and hale male of the mockingbird persuasion, and as I stop to admire his good looks and impressive vocal repertoire, he looks me right in the eye and goes on singing. I whistle and chirrup and warble in as close an imitation of his excellence as I can manage, because it seems only polite to respond in kind, yet I feel not only inferior in my birdcalls but just a little sorry I’m not ‘available,’ let alone the right species for him. Ah, the biological imperative!

I can only assume that such a fine specimen of mockingbird-kind will find no shortage of applicants for the position of his tweet-heart. A creature so elegant, tuneful, and confident could never remain unnoticed by any ladies of his kind, and surely only a true birdbrain would mock his efforts.

All I know is that I couldn’t help whistling as I walked on, myself.Digital illo: Mr. Mockingbird

3 thoughts on “Sorry, You’re Not Exactly My Type

  1. This is so delightful!! Absolutely delightful!!
    Every time I have tried to whistle back, I have only received reproachful glares. My attempts at birdsong are, alas, woeful at best. ha ha ha..

  2. My own little avian experience wasn’t about communication this time, at least, not of the verbal type. I have two pair of cardinals that regularly visit my feeder, and neither pair will visit the feeder unless I’m at least fifteen feet away. The other evening, I had just refilled the feeder, and was sitting in a rocking chair not five feet away from the feeder, when one of the male cardinals jumped on the feeder, and looked directly at me, tilting his head this way and that, before turning his back on me and helping himself to sunflower seeds. I was caught by surprise. Usually I fill the feeder and then move away to the other side of the patio, but now, the last several nights, I’ve chosen the chair closest to the feeder, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

    So far, he’s the only one brave enough to feed at the feeder when I’m so close. He is really quite magnificent, with his bright red feathers and black as night eyes. What a treat. 🙂

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