The Red Eft: Exemplar for Change

There were many great things about my childhood best friend. One of those was her family’s school bus that they had turned into a camper long before the word glamping was coined. They had painted it white with blue trim and jury-rigged calico curtains in its windows. We got to play in it in the yard which was a dream. We jumped from seat to seat with no bus driver to yell at us, pretended to drive it careening around corners at high speeds, and sometimes we just sat and inhaled that naugahyde smell.

Listen to the Mockingbird – “tweet tweet”

These days a few of my friends and I are participating in the Suffield bird census. We are clutching our lengthy list of birds hoping to check as many off as possible as we peruse all the open space we have here in our town. We rarely leave our houses without grabbing our binoculars, ears tuned to any bird calls which might reveal a new visitor hiding in the trees. More often than not, I have been hearing our mockingbird as he goes through his rendition of other bird calls, as they have been known to sing 200 different songs and when they exhaust their repertoire, they can even mimic car alarms. Many a birder has been fooled by his singing, but it wouldn’t seem right to have him silent. By this time of year, the mockingbirds are well-established in shrubs and thickets around town.