Article December 3, 1984 Issue

"Listen to the Mocking Bird"

RUTH MARIE LONG

Many of you will recognize the title of this article as a well-known old song. But by taking the suggestion literally, I recently enjoyed a musical concert and learned a valuable lesson at the same time.

Until I moved to another area, I was unfamiliar with the mockingbird, but its song quickly made it something special to me. The big oak trees outside of my apartment seem to be a favorite concert stage of the birds, so I'm often the recipient of their large and varied repertoire. One morning as I was doing some chores, street noises coming in the open windows were unusually annoying. Then suddenly the clear, musical voice of a mockingbird rose above the din, and I stopped my work to listen. His song was so exuberant I was inspired to capture it on my tape recorder—and the playback was illuminating.

In the background I could hear trucks and cars passing by, the noise of an airplane flying overhead, a couple of barking dogs, and even the whirring of the fan in my apartment, which I hadn't noticed before. But none of those noises bothered that little bird. He was too busy singing; and nothing could distract him. The street noises couldn't drown him out; the airplane was ignored; and his clear tones rose above the barking of the dogs. Ornithologists might say that he was singing to define his territory or to call his mate. But it seemed to me that he didn't care if anyone listened or not; or if anyone agreed or disagreed with his choice of music. I thought of him as free and happy and not shy about broadcasting it.

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