Neighborhood Doings
I have no idea why the mockingbird sings, but I'm going to go out on the limb with that bird and say that I think they're crazy birds. They're going great guns, creating their wacky symphony of sound at 3am...at 6am...at8pm! The small grey bird that has set up a home at the corner of our patch (in the spindly Scotch pine) has determination. And there was a moment...when I thought... yes, I could kill a mockingbird. That's not to say that I don't appreciate their amazing range. His song is so varied that sometimes I am only sure it's him because of the tone of his song. (Can you say tone of voice about a bird?) The song is sure and clear. Enthusiastic is how I can best describe this little guy.
But I'm tired! The mockingbird isn't the only creature competing for attention in our little neighborhood. We have the dog next door, a sweet and gentle pup who spends most of her time outside on a chain. Everything makes her excited. Everything. She barks with joy at each dog that passes, scampering (she does scamper) within the confines of what the chain allows. She barks, barks, barks, when her owners are home, begging to join the fun inside.
And then there's the rooster. The sun is up early now. The light arrives at a little after 4am. The rooster, with great exuberance, lets us know just when that light is returning. He crows his little heart out. It doesn't stop once the day begins in earnest. No, this rooster is serious about his brood. He's crowing at lunchtime, in the heat of the day, while we're chopping vegetables for supper. He wants to let us all know who's in town.
I'm sitting here, with the windows closed, on a beautiful early summer morning. Not because of Shilo the dog, the little grey mockingbird or the throaty rooster. None of this compares to the bridge work being done just a few hundred yards from our bedroom window. At 7am each morning, except Sundays, the pile driver starts up and doesn't seem to stop until dinner. BAM BAM BAM
I need a job in another county. Any ideas?
But I'm tired! The mockingbird isn't the only creature competing for attention in our little neighborhood. We have the dog next door, a sweet and gentle pup who spends most of her time outside on a chain. Everything makes her excited. Everything. She barks with joy at each dog that passes, scampering (she does scamper) within the confines of what the chain allows. She barks, barks, barks, when her owners are home, begging to join the fun inside.
And then there's the rooster. The sun is up early now. The light arrives at a little after 4am. The rooster, with great exuberance, lets us know just when that light is returning. He crows his little heart out. It doesn't stop once the day begins in earnest. No, this rooster is serious about his brood. He's crowing at lunchtime, in the heat of the day, while we're chopping vegetables for supper. He wants to let us all know who's in town.
I'm sitting here, with the windows closed, on a beautiful early summer morning. Not because of Shilo the dog, the little grey mockingbird or the throaty rooster. None of this compares to the bridge work being done just a few hundred yards from our bedroom window. At 7am each morning, except Sundays, the pile driver starts up and doesn't seem to stop until dinner. BAM BAM BAM
I need a job in another county. Any ideas?
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