This morning a trip to the beaver dam produced some unexpected treats. I was there at 6:30 and while I waited for a beaver to appear I listened to the showoff songs of the resident mocking bird. I haven’t heard one for a while, and it was delightful to remember what an extraordinary performance they can muster. Most birds learn all the songs they are ever going to sing in their first year of life. The mockingbird keeps adding and imitating sounds he hears every day. Mockingbird song surpasses even the nightingale for quality. They imitate every other bird, humans, car alarms, and traffic noises. At Rankin swimming pool there even used to be one that imitated the life guards whistle.
I also remember the misery of having one decide to sing outside your window all night.It is a something a person who has lived through will not likely forget. It’s not the volume, its the unpredictabilty. If it were the same thing over and over again, it might be possible to adapt. But mockingbird song is impossible to “get used to”. The tune repeats a just few times and then abruptly changes, with an endless repertoire of variety. Try as you might not to listen, your attention is always jarred back by a sudden shift in cadence or tune. Sadly, mockingbird song is never boring or just repetitive.
As you might suspect, sex is at stake.
Mockingbirds sing to attract a mate, and apparently females don’t want to hear just the same old tune over and over again. (Who does?) The male woos her with his variety, volume, accuracy and prowess. Look at me! I can imitate a robin! Look at me! I can imitate a lawnmower! Look at me, I have highly developed syingeal biphonation! Well, we humans understand something about showing off. I guess we can make allowances. Apparently all males sing during the day, but those that sing at night are the ones that haven’t got yet won the girl. Once love comes their way and nest building and chick rearing require their attention, they’ll stop. I promise.
At 7:15 a telltale V in the water marked the return of mom from far downstream. She crossed the secondary dam and swam steadily carrying a large leafy branch over the primary and back to the lodge. It was great to see her swim back home and know she was there and doing okay. I don’t know if the mockingbird saw her. I forgot to listen.
