It is a soggy wet morning, so I am typing and drinking coffee at 9 am, and the mockingbird is singing outside my window. When I woke up at midnight, he was mimicking the robin, who was likely sleeping. When I woke up at 2am, he was performing his twenty minute car alarm rendition. Maybe if I could learn to scream bloody murder a little more prettily when the baby squirrels use my delphiniums to pole vault into the pear tree, he would imitate me.
Every once in awhile, he makes a little loop-de-loop in the air above his elm, without pausing in song. What is he doing?
But who is even noisier than the mockingbird? This gang of four, South Side Scranton's very own roving guinea hens - in this picture, threatening to attack my poor old dog.
