Attack me not, O mockingbird, I did not mean to harm
The babes inside your little nest, nor cause any alarm,
Gently I go about my work, and never hurt a thing
Who killed your chicks I do not know, whatever made you think
That I who love all creatures here and their varied songs
Would ever kill a mockingbird or do it any wrong?
---------------------------------------------
With a trimming shear in my hand, I slowly walk towards a planting bed in my garden. From a safe distance I tap gently on a shrub with the tip of the shears, announcing my presence to any bird nesting or resting in its depths. I have been startled by near collisions with birds flying straight out of hiding just when frequent trimming is needed to keep the garden looking prim and proper.
Chipping sparrows like to nest in the small holly shrubs near the road. This little bird with a rust crown and white eye stripes sits on a tree and chirps while I am clipping the shrubs nearby, gently letting me know that her little ones need to be protected. It is a different call than her usual rapid chips and I can sense the anxiety in her notes. I comply and leave the shrub alone. Holly growth is slow and the manicuring can wait.
There is an Abelia bush in a planting bed next to the house in the front, right below my office window. It blooms in late May and the white and pink blossoms have a lovely fragrance which brings back memories of a vine over the garden wall in my grandfather's house. I love to work in the planting beds around the Abelia or sit near the window of my office - breathing the fragrant air in for as long as I can during its rather short two weeks blooming season. The bush grows rapidly after the blossoms fade away and needs sheering every few weeks throughout the summer.
In early spring while I was raking the dry leaves that pile up under the shrubs during winter and airing the roots of the plants a large bird flew out of this Abelia, barely missing my head. Taken aback by this unexpected encounter I could not help running away screaming. Luckily my neighbors did not hear my screams - it would have been rather embarrassing to explain this strange behavior. A pair of mourning doves had made a nest anchored between the Abelia and the wall and after a couple of such startling incidents it was prudent on my part to stay away from that planting bed for the rest of the season. These doves first cowered in the nest when sensing danger and then took flight if the perceived danger persisted, temporarily abandoning their helpless off-springs. They are the messengers of peace, confrontation is not in their blood and any chance collision is unintended.
A few years back, on a nice summer day, I spent a couple of hours trimming the barberry shrub in front of my house. Its thorns are prickly and if not handled carefully small clippings go through the gloves and into the skin and hurt for days. As I stood back to admire my finished work, I noticed a nest precariously at the edge of the shrub with three speckled eggs in it. I had not seen any bird, or heard the usual high-pitched call, alerting me to stay away. The nest was now quite exposed and all I could do was hope that no cats, crows, hawks or other predators would notice it.
I checked the nest on my daily morning, afternoon and evening rounds. A few days later the eggs hatched and there were three little chicks wiggling in the nest. A mockingbird was around, perched on the railing or a branch but showed no sign of concern. Was it a mockingbird's nest? I was not sure.
True to its name, a mockingbird can imitate the songs and different calls of other birds. It is even known to imitate lawn mowers engines, power saws, and other garden equipment. Equipped with a large repertoire, it sits on a rooftop, a chimney or a branch high up on a tree and repeats each call three to five times at all hours of day and night in spring and summer without stopping or taking a break. But this mockingbird was quiet and did not seem to have any warning or alarm calls in its vocabulary.
Eight days after the nest was discovered it was getting hot and with no rain for a week the plants needed water. As I bent down to turn on the hose on the side of the house, I felt a fast moving object brush against my head. I turned around and saw a mockingbird on the pear tree, with raised wings ready for take off and then it flew straight at me. I ducked to avoid being hit by this torpedo. The next attack was coming from the same pear tree so I ran for cover, getting back inside the house as fast as I could. A little later I ventured out through the front door and immediately out of nowhere the mockingbird attempted to take a swipe at me. I made a hasty retreat and closed the door behind me. What had I done to deserve the wrath of this bird?
Next morning I heard the mockingbird making strange noises and dashing towards the barberry bush several times in succession. Bending and crouching near the window I was able to see part of the nest. It was empty! The wailing and darting continued all day. The noises this mocking bird was making were nothing like its usual cheerful singing.
A day later I saw the mockingbird perched on the maple tree across the lawn facing the house. I wanted to inspect the damage to the nest, find signs of criminal activity and may be come up with a "who done it" theory. When I stepped out of the front door, the mockingbird attacked me again. Well, I was now a prisoner in my own house! My neighbor's son ran across my yard chasing a ball right in front of the mockingbird and the bird paid no heed to him. It ignored the two ladies walking down the street. These folks were innocent. I was the target, accused of killing little mockingbirds. I, who clipped the shrub and exposed its nest, was to be punished.
It was three days before I could safely walk around outside my house. By this time the mourning period was over and the bird must have reconciled to its fate (do birds take as long as human to accept death?). Has it forgiven me? I pray that it did and that I will not accumulate any sin from my innocent actions.