Regular Gazette contributer Mr. Freen broached the subject of mockingbirds in a comment on yesterday’s post about bluebirds, and it’s one that’s ripe for further discussion.
I didn’t realize that mimus polygottos (one of the best Latin species names ever, btw) ranged so far and wide. According to Mockingbird.org, varieties of the species are found everywhere in the USA, and as far south as the Galapagos Islands and the Netherlands Antilles. I’d always associated the bird with the southern states, and it has indeed been adopted as the state bird by Texas, Tennessee, Mississippi, and Florida (especially ironic considering that the sub-species in question is designated the “Northern Mockingbird.” I guess we are, indeed, north of the Carribean Sea.).
Mockingbirds are fascinating, and if one has enough patience, they will engage you in a game of call-and-respond as you throw out a distinctive whistle and they attempt (usually successfully) to mimic it.
I suspect that everyone has a mockingbird story, as the critters are quite, um, colorful in personality and assertive in behavior (as bluebird photographer Brian describes in his comment on the above-referenced post). I’m sure that most would agree that it’s appropriate that the mockingbird is designated as the state bird of Texas, given its tendency to be loud-mouthed (we call it “garrulous”), opportunistic (we call it “entrepreneurial”), multi-talented (we call it “having the gift of gab” and pushy (we call it, um, “pushy”).
My most memorable mockingbird encounter occurred when we were living in the Dallas suburb of Garland in the late 70s. We were in our first home, and had planted some live oaks in the front yard, one of which a mockingbird family found suitable for a nest.
I was mowing the front yard early that summer and passed close by the oak tree in question, when I received a sudden blow to the top of my head. I touched the point of impact and drew back a bloody fingertip. It seems that the male mockingbird had decided that I and that infernal contraption had come just about close enough to his family’s personal perimeter, and had proceeded to divebomb me.
I finished the yard duties, but I’m sure the neighbors drew their curtains just a bit tighter that day as they watched the obviously crazy guy across the street pushing a lawn mower while wearing a black full-faced motorcycle helmet and waving one arm in an attempt to ward off an enraged bird.
Being a Texas mockingbird, dive bombing you was his way of saying, “Come and take it.”
His descendants might have moved north. I saw something similar happen to the neighbor’s cat a few years back.
He deserved it, though.
Mr. Peepers had just finished using my flower beds as a litter box for the umpteenth time and then decided to try the McMockingBird Meal.
The moment the male and the female spotted him near “their” tree, they both went after him.
That cat would have given anything for your helmet. Judging from his unhappy yowling, those mockingbirds were definitely drawing blood.
Ah, yes…with apologies to the kitty fans out there, that’s one of the benefits to having mockingbirds in the neighborhood. I’ve also seen them unmercifully harass squirrels, to the point they didn’t know up from down.
“Come and get it.” Heh.