The catbird cracks me up
May. 28th, 2004 01:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanYesterday evening in the twilight, I sat at the open window of my bedroom, eating a tempeh-bacon and tomato sandwich. Outside, a lot of birds were singing. Well, no, in fact, one bird was singing. It was the catbird again. Whistle, whistle, tweedle-eedle, warble, warble, trill trill -- wait, I'm a catbird -- skrawwwwwwwwk -- whistle whistle trill trill trill -- catbird, right, mmmeeeeeeeehhhhewwwwwwww -- whistle whistle whistle, skrawk.
Eventually a cardinal struck up its what-cheer song -- the catbird hasn't learned to do a cardinal yet. As it got darker, the robins started in. The catbird can do a robin, but it always ends the robin song with a loud shriek.
Because we wouldn't want to forget that it is, in fact, a catbird.
The catbird also sings at night. Sometime last week, I was sitting in my office closing things down for the night, right around 2 a.m. A glorious medley of birdsong burst out of the darkness. The catbird put in fewer catbird-specific noises this time, perhaps on the theory that none of its sources sings at night, so it needn't try so hard to differentiate itself. The catbird was singing from a mulberry sapling on the southwest corner of the house, right outside my second-story office window. When I went downstairs, I could still hear it through the open, ground-level, north-facing window of David's basement room. It was still going strong at 4 a.m., and merged smoothly into the dawn flood of birdsong.
I love the catbird.
Pamela
Eventually a cardinal struck up its what-cheer song -- the catbird hasn't learned to do a cardinal yet. As it got darker, the robins started in. The catbird can do a robin, but it always ends the robin song with a loud shriek.
Because we wouldn't want to forget that it is, in fact, a catbird.
The catbird also sings at night. Sometime last week, I was sitting in my office closing things down for the night, right around 2 a.m. A glorious medley of birdsong burst out of the darkness. The catbird put in fewer catbird-specific noises this time, perhaps on the theory that none of its sources sings at night, so it needn't try so hard to differentiate itself. The catbird was singing from a mulberry sapling on the southwest corner of the house, right outside my second-story office window. When I went downstairs, I could still hear it through the open, ground-level, north-facing window of David's basement room. It was still going strong at 4 a.m., and merged smoothly into the dawn flood of birdsong.
I love the catbird.
Pamela
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Date: 2004-05-28 12:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-28 12:41 pm (UTC)I think mockingbirds are far more accomplished, but this particular catbird is pretty talented. Mercifully, we don't have many car alarms going off hereabouts.
Pamela
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Date: 2004-05-28 07:35 pm (UTC)We were packing up the last of the set in LA at about 2:30 or 3 in the morning, and I was surprised to hear birds singing lustily away as if dawn were right around the corner. When I mentioned this to one of the locals, they said "Oh, yeah, the birds start early here." No kidding. My impulse when I heard the birdsong was to look round for the first glimmerings of dawn. Nope. Middle of the night and the birds are going crazy. California is so not Minnesota...
Cindy
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Date: 2004-05-28 07:44 pm (UTC)California is not Minnesota, but it is really something.
Pamela
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Date: 2004-05-29 09:31 am (UTC)First I went to Los Angeles. My impressions: everyone over-indulged in food, even landladies and housekeepers strutted around like they were movie stars, and Disneyland was land of many rules and regulations.
We drove up the coast on highway 101 where I expected to see such beauty. I was terrified of the two lane highway with no place to go but into the ocean or against a steep cliff. I got carsick, something I usually never do, and slept through most of the redwood forest.
San Francisco, in my opinion was full of arts and crafts alright. Jive people who would gladly sell you the Brooklyn Bridge. Overpriced clothes and meals. I hated the mountains. I always felt like I was going to fall off. I begged my companion to go back home early. Give me the flatlands and get me out of here.
I've always wondered if I felt this way because I was newly pregnant and didn't know it, thus full of hormonal changes or if I'd feel the same way were I to go back. As far as I'm concerned it's not worth investigating. Weird, huh?
no subject
Date: 2004-05-29 10:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-29 04:49 pm (UTC)Pamela