So I come home and immediately changed into my walking clothes and set out to get my daily exercise. At the corner of my block I am faced with a choice of crossing to the near west corner and then across to the north; or, crossing to the north immediately and then west to the side of the street I want to walk along. I chose the latter tonight because on Sunday’s walk I was attacked by a mocking bird which a fellow walker with a dog told me occurred because I passed under a magnolia tree on the west corner where this man thought the birds are nesting. After todays walk, I think he may be wrong. I avoided that magnolia corner by crossing north and then walking west, and I was still attaked. The vicious little bird swooped in at me like an angry ex-lover.
As I walked, I thought about how the attacks of this loud little bird are not unlike human gossips. The attack of the mockingbird is like a person who attacks others with gossip, the bird has nothing of its own to sing. It only has the desperate chirps and tweets of other birds, old songs, long heard, and well-known, and quite worn; it’s all the same old song, and it’s all been heard before, and nobody is particularly interested. So the gossip chirps all the louder in hopes someone will notice.
Gossips are like mocking birds; lots of noise, and nothing original to say, not an original thought in their head, just swooping with rear attacks, never direct, never frontal, always safe, swooping in unseen.
Human mocking birds are nothing more than featherless gossips chirping the repeated songs of others who have been heard again, and again, and again.