Listen To The Mockingbirds
Yesterday morning, as I was leaving our local Golden Corral (I must admit that I fell victim to the siren song that is its breakfast), I spotted a mockingbird flying low over the parking lot, singing the whole way. If you're not familiar with this flying cacophony, let me tell you a little about them, at least from a scientific viewpoint.
Mimus polyglottos. Gray and white, native to a rather large portion of North America, from Florida north into parts of Canada, with the heaviest concentrations along the southern and eastern coasts. Not very big, no larger than 8" usually. But what they lack in size they make up for in behavior. And what behavior! Let's move away from the biological now.
The mockingbird is one of the few birds I have seen that doesn't miss a beat once it takes to wing. It starts a song at one point, flies to another, and the song doesn't sound interupted. Usually, they create their own little songs; they don't "mock" all the time, they don't have to. In my travails, I've noticed that they might have regional dialects. The species has been aggressively moving into New England now for the past couple of decades, and their song sounds markedly different than members in south Florida (can't say the same for the human species, though; some south Floridians sound like displaced New Yorkers, which in many cases they are).
What I observed yesterday, though, was interesting. I've studied mockingbirds for a long time, but only as someone who finds their antics fascinating. After all, here is a little bird that seems to have no natural enemies. It will attack birds and animals many times its own size. That's bravery... or chutzpah. But yesterday, I was noticing the song.
This little character didn't skip a beat as he flew from the rooftop to a fence to a sweetgum. His song was a mixture of mockingbird, with its requisite whistles and clicks, and other birds. This is where it gets unusual. A cardinal flew by, all a chatter, and suddenly the mockingbird started doing cardinal. Just a couple of measures of a cardinal's mating song. Again, the mockingbird returned to its native tongue.
As it flew to a sweetgum tree next to a retention pond, it started doing the chatter of a redwing blackbird. Almost on cue, a blackbird emerged from the cattails and landed nearby the mockingbird. Did the mockingbird even know what it was saying? Doubtful. But whatever it was, the blackbird didn't sound too amused. Our little mimic flew away to a scrawny pine and started doing its usual song... and threw in an osprey's cry.
This was all very amusing, but then I noticed... it was telling a story of its area. The cardinals must pass through quite a bit in order for him to pick their voice. Obviously, he spent a lot of time in this area, near the retention pond and the blackbirds. And less than a quarter mile away, a mating pair of osprey had built a large nest on a cell tower.
The mockingbird's song reflected its life. It was a miniature saga; "This is who I am, and in my area are cardinals, black birds and osprey." What else it was saying is a complete mystery, but by copying others in its little neck of the woods, it was telling about its life.
What can this teach us?
God made us incredibly complicated. Like the mockingbird, though, often times we say and do things that reveal not so much who we are, but what we do, the company we keep and the things we see and hear. It is really a human trait to want to fit into our environment, and as a result, we tend to mimic. Everything we watch, read, hear... it plays a role in shaping who we are and what we do. In short, our behavior. And in turn, we effect others in the same way. It is a fallacy to think otherwise.
There is wisdom in the old adage "think good thoughts". Perhaps it's not just the thinking we should be doing good. Perhaps in our own little way, we are not unlike mockingbirds.
Mimus polyglottos. Gray and white, native to a rather large portion of North America, from Florida north into parts of Canada, with the heaviest concentrations along the southern and eastern coasts. Not very big, no larger than 8" usually. But what they lack in size they make up for in behavior. And what behavior! Let's move away from the biological now.
The mockingbird is one of the few birds I have seen that doesn't miss a beat once it takes to wing. It starts a song at one point, flies to another, and the song doesn't sound interupted. Usually, they create their own little songs; they don't "mock" all the time, they don't have to. In my travails, I've noticed that they might have regional dialects. The species has been aggressively moving into New England now for the past couple of decades, and their song sounds markedly different than members in south Florida (can't say the same for the human species, though; some south Floridians sound like displaced New Yorkers, which in many cases they are).
What I observed yesterday, though, was interesting. I've studied mockingbirds for a long time, but only as someone who finds their antics fascinating. After all, here is a little bird that seems to have no natural enemies. It will attack birds and animals many times its own size. That's bravery... or chutzpah. But yesterday, I was noticing the song.
This little character didn't skip a beat as he flew from the rooftop to a fence to a sweetgum. His song was a mixture of mockingbird, with its requisite whistles and clicks, and other birds. This is where it gets unusual. A cardinal flew by, all a chatter, and suddenly the mockingbird started doing cardinal. Just a couple of measures of a cardinal's mating song. Again, the mockingbird returned to its native tongue.
As it flew to a sweetgum tree next to a retention pond, it started doing the chatter of a redwing blackbird. Almost on cue, a blackbird emerged from the cattails and landed nearby the mockingbird. Did the mockingbird even know what it was saying? Doubtful. But whatever it was, the blackbird didn't sound too amused. Our little mimic flew away to a scrawny pine and started doing its usual song... and threw in an osprey's cry.
This was all very amusing, but then I noticed... it was telling a story of its area. The cardinals must pass through quite a bit in order for him to pick their voice. Obviously, he spent a lot of time in this area, near the retention pond and the blackbirds. And less than a quarter mile away, a mating pair of osprey had built a large nest on a cell tower.
The mockingbird's song reflected its life. It was a miniature saga; "This is who I am, and in my area are cardinals, black birds and osprey." What else it was saying is a complete mystery, but by copying others in its little neck of the woods, it was telling about its life.
What can this teach us?
God made us incredibly complicated. Like the mockingbird, though, often times we say and do things that reveal not so much who we are, but what we do, the company we keep and the things we see and hear. It is really a human trait to want to fit into our environment, and as a result, we tend to mimic. Everything we watch, read, hear... it plays a role in shaping who we are and what we do. In short, our behavior. And in turn, we effect others in the same way. It is a fallacy to think otherwise.
There is wisdom in the old adage "think good thoughts". Perhaps it's not just the thinking we should be doing good. Perhaps in our own little way, we are not unlike mockingbirds.
posted by Robert at 9:32 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home