The mocker and me

The mockingbird is a curious critter, full of bluff and bluster, and thinking, no doubt, that the bald eagle should move over and let him be not only the state bird of Texas, but the national bird as well. They regularly put their haughty selves atop something and tell the world about it. One does not cross a mockingbird, particularly not in the spring when a mocker's mind turns to love.

So it was a bit of a surprise to me when one landed about 4 feet from where I was trimming my lamppost clematis. There I was, snipping off the bits and bobs that looked dead and hopefully didn't lead anywhere--or I'd kill half the plant--and a mockingbird lands. He quite obviously knew I was there. Hard to miss a lady with a pair of snippers in the middle of the afternoon.

We eyed each other and I stood very still. Whatever was he up to?

In the blink of an eye, he'd picked up one of the small clippings and took off to a tree across the yard. Ah, I thought, nest building!

He didn't return, but I snipped all the pieces into mockingbird-beak size and left them at the foot of the clematis.