I have a large cedar tree about 40 feet from my back door. A male mockingbird has taken up residence there this Spring. I know this because he sings–all night long. The singing doesn’t bother me. I’m a light sleeper anyway, and I’m not likely to hear the same song twice, which keeps it interesting.
This fellow knows more songs than Casey Kasem.
The bird books all say that he is trying to attract a mate. That’s probably a good strategy for any male of the species–do all your sweet talking upfront, mix it up, then shut up.
It’s a skill I have never mastered. The shut up part. I call myself plain-spoken. Others that know me have other terms to describe this “quality.”
Case in point: just this weekend, the Redhead said “the birds are making some weird noises this year. You notice?”
“No, they’re not,” I said. “There making the same noises they always do. You are just noticing their singing more than you have in the past.”
Words plainly spoken are not a quality admired by the female of the species.
Here are some other cases, fellows. Never, under any circumstances, answer or comment to any of these utterances from the female of the species:
- Does this dress make me look fat?
- Are you getting hungry?
- Maybe I should join a gym.
- Let’s go shopping.
- What a beautiful day. Want to do some yard work?
- If I die, would you remarry?
I hope it takes my feathered friend a while to find Miss Right.
A fellow needs some entertainment for all those long nights when he’s sleeping on the couch.