Down to Earth, Part Two

 

Northern Mockingbird

The gray day that brought swifts and swallows swirling low around the Overlook also stimulated mysterious ups and downs by a nearby Mockingbird. Its performance enlivened that listless day.

I was a delighted observer. I know I shouldn't assume the bird was being theatrical, putting on a show for an audience. Its repeated upward sallies from the top of a cedar tree were nevertheless very entertaining. I'm quite sure that at mid-summer they had nothing to do with food, courtship, or territorial bravado. Other than the swallows we were the only ones around.

What comes down, must first go up. The Mockingbird launched itself skyward repeatedly. Dare I say it was having fun? Breaking the boredom of an overcast day? Do birds suffer from tedium?

Mockingbirds don't have much to offer in terms of colorful plumage or hunting dramas.

They are mainly known for their vast repertoire of vocal mimicry, repeating songs and calls from across the avian spectrum. What is the reason for that? Does it give them any advantage in life? Do they just like to hear their own chatter? 

Are listeners part of the Mockingbird's performance world? Does it like showing off?

To every looping sally from the treetop the Mockingbird gave full voice and panache. It came back to earth each time projecting a sense of fulfillment.