Teal

Teal’s Terrible Tree


Chapter One

I was startled awake by a violent shaking, nearly knocking me out of the nest. I was so surprised, I flew upward, only to bang my head on a close branch and plop with a smack back into the nest.

The shaking stopped but before I could gather my dignity enough to exit the nest more gracefully, it began again. All I could do was hold on and ride it out, grateful that there were not eggs in the nest. They were coming soon, I knew, but hadn’t yet arrived. Jim had said the delay was most likely due to my complete exhaustion after days of hunting for a place to nest and had urged me to rest while he hunted for something to add extra cushioning.

He’s a good mockingbird, my Jim, a good friend and a good partner, even when things go wrong. I know because even though this was our first season together and our very first nest, plenty had gone wrong already, enough for me to get an idea of what he would be like in a crises.

I had agreed to rest, mostly because I was just too tired to resist. The past few days had been quite an adventure. We both had been so thrilled to find the other, we sang our joy from the top of every tree, going from tree to tree to fence post to farm roof to desert cactus to, well, until we had no idea where we were.

After a couple of scary nights, the first spent outside the comfort of our family nests, we managed to find our way back home. But by then, all the nests were taken. All the good sites for new nests were taken. Even the smaller nests smaller birds could be chased out of were taken.

So, for another day we searched and searched, until we found this small tree in the middle of the grove of tall trees that separate the farmland from the desert. It was higher from the ground than Mockingbirds usually like but we had to make do.

I was just starting to relax that morning and dozed off thinking maybe it would all be okay after all when the shaking started and shook me awake.

The shaking slowed enough for me to jump to the branch above and fly off. To my great surprise, there was no wind. There was no large animal rubbing against the tree. There wasn’t so much as a quiver running through the other trees. Just my tree. Great.

I spent a long, sleepless, nerve-wrecking morning flying up and watching the other trees, walking around the tree trunk on the ground, and hopping from branch to branch. I couldn’t see anything unusual, certainly nothing to explain the intermittent shaking.

Jim wasn’t pleased when he returned to find me even more restless and nervous than I had been when he left. It came close to being our first really big fight. He blamed my nerves, saying what I was describing was impossible. I, of course, took offense at that and we were both hopping up and down on the branch and flapping our wings when the tree shuddered wildly and swayed madly to the west.

That shut Jim up, all right. He repeated my inspections, but couldn’t find any more than I had. We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to decide whether to start over and find another place, or try to secure the nest to withstand this unexplainable shaking.


Chapter Two

In the end, we decided it came down to nest or no nest and even with the shaking this was a pretty good spot. So we spent the rest of the time before the sun set weaving twigs around small branches to keep the nest from wobbling. The shaking occurred every once in a while but by the end of the day, we had become pretty much used to it. I don’t know if the shaking continued after dark, I was too tired to wake up if it did.

Very early the next morning, with just a few slivers of light slipping through the trees, the eggs arrived. Three of the most beautiful, perfect eggs I’d ever seen. Jim was so full of joy he flew to the top of the tree and sang me a song he made up on the spot. To this day, when I’m worried or feeling bad, he sings that song for me and it always makes me smile.

And so the long vigil began. One of us was on the nest every moment of every day. It was tiring and difficult. We had to be very still while on the nest, especially when we saw cats or bigger birds in the area. And when we weren’t sitting on the nest we were scrambling to find enough food to get through the long times we sat.

The tree would continue to shake a few times each day, some more, some less. We met other birds in the area who said none of them would nest there because that tree was very strange. No one knew why, but it was obviously very, very strange.

Jim and I just shrugged and said we were used to it. What harm in a little shaking? And we went on with our vigil, anxiously anticipating the wonderful moment when the eggs would open.

Hatching eggs is one of those things you wish for so badly… until it happens. From the moment the first precious little beak broke the first shell, we spent every moment just trying to find enough food to keep them happy. It is amazing how much food three little tiny birds can eat!

We suddenly found ourselves with no time for singing or writing songs or chatting with our friends or even for sleeping. While on the nest, we groomed and cared for the little ones and when off, we frantically hunted for more and more food.

But as these things seem to go, we slowly worked our way into a rhythm and it all became easier. We started to really enjoy the babies, bold, daring Pearl, strong, solid Aaron and the tiniest of the three, wide-eyed Coral.

The shaking had slowed quite a lot and I’d spent enough time watching for it, I was beginning to be able to predict when it would start. The babies each reacted in their own way. Pearl chuckled, obviously finding the movement exciting. Aaron tried to peak over the edge of the nest, as if he was already trying to figure out what caused it and Coral would cling to the nest in terror.


Chapter Three

One morning, early, I noticed something. I suddenly realized there was a pattern to all this I hadn’t noticed before. It had been happening a lot since the eggs had hatched. The tall graceful tree beside our tree would gently sway, as if in a nice, spring breeze. But there was no breeze. The top of the tree would almost touch the top of our tree, except our tree would, well the only way I can describe it sounds silly I know, but it would bow, it’s top dipping low toward the ground. Both trees would then return to their normal, upright position and become very still.

I realized this happened just after every one of the times the tree had been shaking. It was as if… and suddenly I realized just before the tree would shake, something would happen just over the small hill that created our horizon, a flock of birds would disappear over the hill, smoke would rise on the other side, a sharp sound would come from there, something. Then the shaking would start and continue off and on until the taller tree would bend and our tree would bend and the shaking would stop.

Jim arrived mid-morning with a beautiful branch full of ripe berries. We were all feasting on this great find and I looked at Jim and said, “I think this tree is trying to see over the hill.”

He looked at me, cocked his head to look at the berries and said, “You think they’re too ripe?”

Now, all Mockingbirds know that too-ripe berries can cause a big upset and can even cause a bird to do things she wouldn’t other wise do.

“I’m not hallucinating,” I said. “It makes sense.”

“To you, maybe,” he said with a bob of his head, “But it sounds like one of the craziest things I’ve ever heard.”

“What’s so crazy?” I asked. “You don’t think trees want things? You think they just sit here? Maybe they have wants. Maybe they see us flying and wish they could fly. Maybe they wish they could run through the fields like the cats, maybe they wish they could leap high in the grass like the bunnies.”

Jim cocked his head again and said, “Maybe you should get off the nest for a while. I’ve stretched my wings, I’ll take the rest of your shift. In fact, there’s plenty of food here for a bit, why don’t you go visit one of your friends?”

“I’m not crazy!” I said, outraged.

“I didn’t say you were,” he said, with a very annoying calmness in his voice.

“I’m not crazy!” I shouted, lifting off the nest carelessly and once again banging my head on the branch above. All three babies stared at me wide-eyed and frightened.

“Calm yourself,” Jim said. “You’re scaring the babies.”

I’m not sure if I’m the only one who’s noticed this or not, but the last thing in the world you should say to someone who’s anger is rising is, “Calm yourself.”

I started to sputter, then decided the words I had to say to Jim were not fit for little ones to hear. With a shake of my head, I jumped to the higher branch and flew off.

I stayed away much longer than I should have, especially since I hadn’t left him with much food, but it helped. It took a lot of muttering to myself, and a lot of flying as hard and fast as I could, but slowly I calmed down. I slowly admitted to myself, though I’d never admit it to him, that he did have a point. What I said did sound crazy.

But, crazy as it sounded, I was sure I was right. That tree wanted to see over the hill and was trying to walk or grow or even fly, if he could. He just didn’t want to sit there being a tree. He wanted to see what was over that hill. I didn’t blame him. I always want to see what’s over the hill, and the next one and the next one. And even flying can’t help me to see too far. It’s scary out there without the protection of the family, so some hills I just have to long to see over. Yeah, I could understand how frustrating it could be some times.

I decided the taller tree was his mother, or maybe his father, or do trees have mothers and fathers? I realized how little I knew about trees, even though I spent most of my life in and around them.

At that moment, I even felt sorry for the small tree, surrounded by much taller trees and down the slope of the hill enough he couldn’t see over it.

In fact, I thought about trying to talk to the tree, though I had no idea how you would talk to a tree. Do they have ears? Where? Can they hear us talking to each other? Feel us walking on their branches? Does it hurt when birds peck into their bark? I started to feel really creepy, to tell the truth, almost afraid to land on a branch.

But when I returned to the nest and found a very frazzled Jim, who swore the shaking had almost thrown him out of the nest and three very vulnerable babies, still shaking from fear, I lost all sympathy.

“Grow up! You’re making us crazy!” I said, much to Jim’s surprise. He was even more surprised when I told him I wasn’t talking to him but to the tree.

After reassurances that I had not been down by the creek where the berries sit in the sun all day and get too ripe, he left me with the babies and went off to get some rest himself.


Chapter Four

Fledging day is the most important day in a bird’s life. That most wonderful day when you first step out of that nest and into the air. Terrifying, thrilling and sometimes downright embarrassing, it’s the moment you first become a real bird. You fly. Even though we’re all a bit awkward at first, and it’s not the prettiest flight we’ll ever make, it’s still flying.

The days up to that moment are fraught with anxiety on the part of both the fledgling and the parents. A step out into the air made too soon spells disaster. A fledgling who can’t fly even enough to drift to a branch below ends up on the ground, completely vulnerable to any predator around. Timing is everything.

We all knew the day was coming for our three little ones, but no one knew quite when it would be. Every morning was exciting. Would this be the day?

One beautiful, warm day, I awoke with a certainty that this would be the day for Pearl. She had hopped to the edge of the nest several times the day before and when she flapped her wings, she even lifted a few inches. Being the largest and most daring of the three, no one questioned that she would be the first.

Jim was due back any minute with food and I hoped she would wait for him to see her maiden flight. He’d be so disappointed if he didn’t.

But before he arrived, her insistent pressing to get to the edge of the nest pushed me to step aside and give her the room. She hopped to the edge, her brother hopped up beside her.

“No, Aaron, you’re not quite ready yet,” I said. With a disappointed look back at me, he turned to watch his sister.

Without the slightest hesitation, with no longing look back at the safety of the nest, or even her mom, Pearl lifted off the nest and began to fly up to the branch above with a calmness and grace that made it appear easy.

Aaron hopped up and down in excitement and looked back at me, pleading. I shook my head, forbidding him to try it. He was strong enough but seemed so awkward and unsure, we had decided he should wait.

Pearl landed on the branch above with a shout of joy. At just that moment, the tree gave a violent shake. Pearl lost her balance and fell from the branch. Aaron was tossed sideways, off the nest and down toward the ground.

I watched in horror as both of them floundered in the air. Pearl, frightened by the sudden movement, forgot everything she had learned about flying and fell harder and faster to the ground than her brother. They landed several feet apart. I froze. I could only go to one of them. How do you make that kind of decision?

I quickly scanned the ground, gratefully seeing nothing but grass. I looked up and with great relief saw Jim swooping down, dropping a branch of berries he had been bringing back to the nest.

“Get Aaron! He shouted as he sped past the nest and landed neatly beside a very frantic Pearl. I dropped almost as quickly as they two babies had, landing beside Aaron. Now, all we had to do was calm them both enough that we could get them closer together and take turns coaxing them up the tree and standing guard in case a predator showed up.

Not too bad, we should get them both back to the nest without too much trouble. Looking up toward the nest, it took me a couple of seconds to realize what I was looking at. Something moving over the tree, what could that….a hawk! Coral was alone in the nest!

The horror that ran through my body froze my throat and I could only croak a meaningless sound. I don’t know what happened to me at that moment, but I started to react without even realizing what I was doing, let alone thinking about it first.

I kicked (yes, kicked!) little Aaron with enough force to roll him within wingtip of Jim and as I lifted I saw him pull the two under his wings, the little bit of safety he could offer without my help.

Flying as hard and fast as I could, I looked up. The hawk dropped out of the sky, swinging into a beautiful arch that would take him to the nest and out of the tree and back into the sky.

I’d never make it. I was too far away. All the strength I had wasn’t enough. The branches were flying by with a speed I’d never experienced before, but it wasn’t enough. I can’t begin to describe the complete desperation I experienced. I wasn’t going to make it. My poor, quiet, little Coral was lost.

The hawk was inches from the nest. I tried to look away but my eyes refused to leave the horrible scene. I actually flew faster, though all I wanted to do was not see what I was seeing. I was helpless, flying faster than I knew how and watching a hawk lift that poor, darling little bird out of the nest. Except he wasn’t. I was almost on top of the nest myself before I realized I had just seen something I couldn’t have seen. The hawk hadn’t taken her. The hawk had missed. It took even longer for me to clear my head of the fear and realize I knew why he had missed.

Later, every bird in the area landed to tell us their version of what happened. It appears all of them were watching me, not the hawk. Some were amazed at the speed with which I was climbing. Others watched in terror, knowing the distance was too great.

They all celebrated that the hawk turned away before reaching the nest, though no one admitted to seeing it happen. No one could quite explain why it had, some said the branches must have been too close together, others that something bigger caught his eye and he changed him mind. It wasn’t a big deal to anyone, anyway. The joy of Coral’s escape was too great to question how it happened.

But I saw what really happened. No one, not even Jim believed me when I told them, and quite honestly I find the subject so painful, I never tried very hard to convince them. But it did happen. It did. And Jim knows it did, I’m sure, even though he will deny it until the day he dies.

There was not a breath of air at that moment, but the tall tree next to ours suddenly swayed, just as suddenly as the quick shaking happened in our tree. She (I’ll always think of her as our tree’s mom) swayed away from us and then snapped back the top of her trunk with a surprising force. The tip hit the hawk. I know it did because I saw him change course in a way he couldn’t have done by himself and then he lost his balance and fluttered for just a second. Regaining his flight, he changed course to rise up and way, looking back in surprise at the tree.

She had saved my Coral’s life. She’d been trying to stop our little tree from making it so difficult for us and couldn’t stand the idea that he would cause such a loss. I know I’m right. I tried to think of some way to thank her but I finally decided she was a mother too, she must already know.


Chapter five

The babies have grown and are off on their own now. Pearl is still the most adventurous and has gotten herself in one crises after another. Jim says she has so many lives she must be part cat.

Aaron has settled down with a very beautiful singer from down the creek and they have taken to living in some tall brush near the tree I think of as the mother tree. I don’t know why, but he also refers to that tree as “she” and sometimes I wonder if he might have seen what I did that awful morning so long ago.

Coral, still the quiet one, has become one of the most graceful flyers in the area. She never tries to compete and acts embarrassed when others talk of how beautifully she flies, but I think secretly she’s as proud of her flights as I am.

Jim laughs when he tells about the time Coral was almost a hawk’s lunch. He tells everyone about how had it had been so difficult to find a place to nest and how I was so stressed by it all I imagined things. I don’t even protest anymore when he says it. Jim’s is the only version of this story the babies have ever heard.

We’ve been told the little tree drooped so badly for weeks after we left the nest, the people almost cut him. Jim says the tree must have been sick and I must have been hallucinating in sympathy. He somehow has forgotten his own puzzlement over the shaking, especially since now the tree is as tall as his mother and is a very popular place for nesting.

I’d like to forgive that tree. I’d like to laugh at it like Jim does. But late at night, I see that horrible hawk bearing down on my poor, defenseless Coral and know it was all because of that little tree’s selfishness.

There is hope, though. I feel less angry at that terrible tree right now. Coral came home today very subdued. It took some time to get her to tell us what happened. We had to promise we wouldn’t laugh before she would say anything.

She had gone out into the desert to look for bugs and hadn’t noticed she was too far from shelter. A hawk appeared out of nowhere. She had flown as fast as she could but the trees were too far away, she was sure. She gained a little time by cutting down and then up again, but was pretty sure it was hopeless.

The line of trees was getting closer but she could almost feel the hawk right on her tail. Suddenly, one of the trees… here she hesitated and looked down at the branch… seemed to, well it was impossible, we all know, but seemed to reach out to her. She was just out of reach and then suddenly she was between the branches and the hawk was squealing in fear and flying away.

She knew it was impossible, we didn’t have to say it, she said, but she’d always be fond of that tree when she saw it, anyway. With a laugh she said it was the one right next to that graceful tall tree Aaron hung around. Maybe Aaron wasn’t so crazy to like it there.

I said nothing. Just embraced her in my wings and held her. Jim started a lecture about not getting too far from shelter but stopped when his eyes met mine. He looked a bit sheepish for a moment, then he muttered something about Coral being just like her mother and left.

Maybe someday I’ll talk to her about it. Maybe someday I’ll talk to Aaron to find out what he saw. But for now, I’ll just be grateful to have my Coral still here and maybe try to find a way to understand, and yes, even forgive that terrible little tree.

The End












A Nest for Tara

Chapter One

It was one of those fateful moments, when suddenly the perfect solution to the previously-thought unsolvable problem appears in a flash.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking mockingbirds don’t have problems, just wile away the day singing in a tree. Well, that might be true for a lot of mockingbirds, but then they weren’t insane enough to offer protection to Tara.

I shouldn’t say insane, that’s not fair. My sweet Jim is certainly not insane, just very nice and he felt sorry for the scrawny, gawky little bird who arrived in our meadow, barely old enough to be out of the nest.

Tara had flown all the way from her family nest on the edge of the forest to our meadow. That was quite a feat for such a small mockingbird. I have to give credit where credit is due and I was impressed.

The forest was a dangerous place, she said. And food was scarce and life was a struggle there. She wanted better for her little ones, a better life than the one she was being offered.

How could you argue with that? Isn’t that what we all want, a good life for our babies? My poor Jim melted, of course, and I have to admit I felt sorry for the little thing myself. She claimed some distant relation to Jim, who swears he understands the connection but every time he tries to explain it to me I get lost in the “father of” and “mother of” lists.

Regardless, we offered protection and responsibility and took her under our wing, so to speak.

She’d given us a clue, that very first meeting, but of course, we didn’t see it until way after it was too late. You see, what she was really saying was that her family home wasn’t good enough for her.

It has since become apparent that it’s not only her family home she finds lacking, but nearly everything. Actually, on deeper thought, I’d have say not nearly everything, but everything. I can’t think of a single thing she’s looked upon with approval since she’s arrived.

So, at that fateful moment, there she stood, sighing at my inability to comprehend such simple facts. She was asking for more preference in her food, preference over our own little ones just hatched.

Why couldn’t I have figured this out on my own, the cock of her head seemed to ask, and spare her the awful task of asking for it?

“I wouldn’t ask for myself,” she was saying. “Of course, you know, Auntie Teal, I’m just a simple bird at heart. I need very little. But it’s important to do what I can to insure the best for my little ones. It’s something I must do, no matter how hard it makes my life.”

My first thought was, if I had a nice juicy grasshopper for every time I’d heard her say that, I’d be one fat mockingbird. I wanted to argue, not that arguing would do any good. Tara always had a perfectly good reason why you should do exactly what she wanted. This time, it was something to do with the fact that, freshly hatched, the little ones wouldn’t know a scraggly, old beetle from a strawberry.

No, I wouldn’t ask her if she really thought I would feed my babies dusty old beetles or why her little ones, not even a glimmer of an egg yet, were more important than mine, already hatched and growing.

No, I wouldn’t ask why we were even discussing this, since she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself now.

That’s when it struck me, like a flash of lightening. I looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since she had arrived I think, and noticed how nicely she had filled out. She was no longer gawky or scraggly, but was quite a nice looking young mockingbird.

I would find her a mate.

What a brilliant idea. And then she would be his problem. All I had to do was find her a mate and get her through the first nesting.

Once a pair complete their first nesting and hatch their first clutch, they’re on their own. They’re grown up and on their own.

There’s no going back to the family nest after that, not when you are a mockingbird. From what I’ve heard, the only ones having that problem are humans. There, see, Teal, it could be worse. You could be a human.

Now, to find a young mockingbird stupid…ah, I mean, good enough for Tara.


Chapter Two

“Are you out of your mind?” Tara looked at me as if I had suddenly grown an extra beak. “Bernard? Have you ever looked at him?”

“Well, he is a little small,” I admitted, “But he does come from a good family, and he’s got use of a very nice tree. From what I hear, he’d make a very good…”

“He’s lopsided!” she screeched. “He’s ugly! He shouldn’t even be allowed to live!”

“I’m sorry, it was just an idea. I didn’t know what I was thinking,” I murmured. She was drawing a crowd and they were already starting to take sides in the issue and this was not something I wanted debated around the meadow.

I was already running into a backlash of sorts. Several young birds had made it clear that they were looking for a mate who would help them, not one as uncompromising as Tara.

“Well,” Tara said, shaking herself and stretching a wing. “Next time keep your ideas to yourself. Ugh!”

I think I was more disappointed than angry. In this case, she was closer to being right than I wanted to admit. Bernard was a particularly unattractive bird. And while I know Tara was reacting to his outward appearance, I personally suspected an even less attractive personality lurked under those feathers.

Of course, I shouldn’t have even considered him. I don’t wish her unhappiness, particularly. Well, actually, to be honest, I don’t really care much about her happiness or unhappiness anymore, as long as it stops being my problem.

But she had managed to find something disgusting about every bird I suggested and I was becoming desperate.

Tara was making no effort at either finding herself a mate or trying to find something worthwhile in the ones we suggested for her. Not that she had made much of an effort at anything since she had arrived, but this should be something she had an interest in, shouldn’t it? When asked, she would just shrug and say it would happen when it happened.

How could any young bird be so convinced everything would just drop into her lap?

It was enough to drive a poor bird to the forbidden bushes. Not that I would, of course. I have responsibilities and birds depending on me, but… well… for the first time it is an attractive idea.

I should explain. The forbidden bushes are just that, forbidden, because of the effect they have on birds. Well, to be precise, for the effect their berries have on birds, especially mockingbirds.

The berries appear innocent enough, not much different from the raspberries and blueberries we all eat, and many a young bird has ignored the warnings and tried them. Some grow out of the fascination with the effects but for some they are too intoxicating to pass up. Those poor birds skip their lessons, ignore their duties, never mate or build a nest and miss out on all that life has to offer.

I’d never spent much time out there, myself, but I was beginning to see how a bird could become attracted to that life. What if I couldn’t find a mate good enough for her? What if she stayed with us long into our old age? What if… Oh, I’d better not think about this anymore.

Get a grip, Teal. You only need one bird. Just one little mockingbird who’s perfect, completely and absolutely perfectly acceptable to Tara.

There just has to be such a bird. There has to be.


Chapter Three

“Oh, you should see him fly! He’s so fast and so graceful and oh, you should just see him! And he’s so gorgeous! And … and he winked at me!”

Tara’s enthusiasm was almost boundless. You’d think that would be good, considering how hard we’d worked to find her a mate, wouldn’t you? Well, that enthusiasm was matched or maybe even surpassed in intensity by the disapproval reeking from every feather on my darling Jim.

Tara fluttered on and on, ignoring the scene unfolding in front of her.

“You said to find someone she really likes,” I ventured quietly. “You wanted her to be happy.”

“Zach?” my sweet Jim asked, in a tone I had never heard him use before. “You introduced her to Zach?”

“Well,” I said, ducking my head, “I didn’t actually introduce her to him. Do you know him?”

“He’s completely unacceptable,” Jim demanded, stamping his foot. It was said with such force, even Tara had to listen. Tara didn’t like what she heard and with a screech of disappointment and a vow to die before she accepted anyone other than Zach, she hopped along the branches to a place she could fly off.”

Jim turned to me. “You…You…Even you should know better than that!”

Even me? What did he mean by even me? And if this bird was so unacceptable, then how did Jim know so much about him? Before I could work my way into anger, he continued.

“How could you?” he asked. “He hangs out at the bushes, Teal! He never goes to classes. He’s never done an hour’s work in his life. He’s lazy and insolent. What kind of life do you expect her to have with him? Oh, Teal. You can’t be that innocent! Do you hate her that much?”

Jim waved his wings in anger.

“I didn’t,” I said, now completely at a loss. I’d never seen Jim so upset, not even in that storm last summer that threatened to blow the nest and all our eggs right out of the tree.

“I didn’t introduce them,” I repeated, trying to pat him with a wing. He flinched and backed away. “He just showed up and flew around and she started, out of the blue, bouncing up into the air with joy and he started bouncing up in the air with joy and he flew up to the top of a tree and started singing to her, and they both completely ignored me.”

Jim stared at me as if he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying. I tried again to pat his back, adding, “I thought the feeders would be a good place to meet other birds, how was I to know Zach would be there and that she would…”

His look froze the words in my beak. Jim was no longer confused. He said in a voice dripping with accusation, “You took her to the feeders? Where there are humans?”

“I thought we could meet some new birds, she’d rejected every one I could think of in the meadow!”

“The feeders?” he repeated. “What were you looking for, a finch? Maybe a sparrow, Teal, maybe a sparrow? Did I have to say it, Teal? Did I have to mention she’s a mockingbird so you should try and find her a mate who’s a mockingbird?”

“I thought…”

“You didn’t think, Teal! It’s obvious there was no thinking going on at all! Mockingbirds don’t hang out at the feeders, Teal, except lazy mockingbirds who can’t be bothered to hunt!”

“Hey!” I said in what could only be called a moment of total insanity. I don’t do well under pressure. “I go there. They put out some nice fruit every now and then. I especially like the peaches.”

“Lazy mockingbirds go there!” Jim stamped his foot again. I could see his opinion of me dropping until I landed right beside that rogue, Zach. “Lazy and worthless birds go there. Like that showoff Zach!”

I decided it would be wiser not to mention Zach was indeed a great flyer, certainly better than either of us. Not knowing what to say, I simply bowed my head, hoping somehow he would take pity on me.

“You have two choices, Teal,” he said, pronouncing my name in a way that made it sound like something too disgusting to eat.

I cocked my head, waiting to hear my choices. I didn’t really expect one of them to be “forget the whole thing and go back to your normal life” but somehow there was still hope.

“You can convince Tara to choose someone better, someone who will make her a good mate, or…”

He stared at me with a look I really didn’t like. I’d do anything to get him to stop looking at me that way. But change Tara’s mind? Convince her of anything? I was doomed, except there was an “or.” I held my breath. That “or” might just save my neck.

“Or you can turn that worthless Zach into a decent mate. I will consider him acceptable only if he can build her a good nest, no not just a good nest, the best, most secure, most comfortable nest in the valley.”

Oh, great, I thought. Doomed. Absolutely doomed. I couldn’t build that nest and neither could Jim and we’d been doing it for years. Could there still be another “or?” No, he had said, two choices and Jim was always very precise in what he said. I was doomed. But maybe…

“And no hiring someone to help him!” he said, as if hearing my next thought before it completely formed. “He has to do it all by himself.”

“Can I give him pointers?” I asked, meekly.

“Yes,” he nodded his head gracefully. “You may give him pointers.”

He was suddenly calm and gracious, whether because he was certain of my success, or whether in response to my obvious capitulation, I wasn’t sure. Somehow, he had brought me from innocent bystander to completely responsible for Tara’s choice, and completely responsible for fixing her choice. I wasn’t sure how he had done it, but the terrible thought occurred to me, maybe he and Tara were related, after all.


Chapter Four

Zach was trying. He’d actually shown up and appeared to be listening all morning while I explained how to pick a good location for a nest. And here he was again, in the afternoon, actually trying to do that very thing.

I still had moments when I secretly hoped he would abandon the idea, after all, building a nest was hard work, and Zach had never been exposed to anything resembling hard work in his life.

I had so many other things I would rather be doing, myself, bugs to chase, songs to compose. I had been working on a particularly creative one when all this started, working the sound of a cell phone ringing into the middle of a couple of choice bits I picked up from a very talented finch.

Then again, when I thought of that look in Jim’s eye and how impossible it had been to convince Tara to accept another bird, I decided the little hope Zach represented was the best hope I had.

It wasn’t that Zach was particularly slow. He seemed bright enough when something struck his interest. But he had paid no attention to anything anyone had said to him before about nest building, and I had to start with the very, very basics.

At first, he had been attracted to the top of the tree for a nest, until I mentioned that when the hawk comes to hunt in the valley, he uses that branch for his looking post.

That made enough of an impression that Zach then picked out a spot across the meadow from the hawk’s branch and at the very bottom of a low tree. I said nothing but waved a wing toward a large bowl of water, left out for the local cats by one of the local farm hands, sitting practically directly under the branch.

We went through the branch too close to the crow’s nests, too close to another mockingbird’s nest, too far from the food supply and too close to the farm sheds where people come. It took some convincing to keep him away from the hummingbird’s nest. He kept saying they were too small to worry about but I’ve had personal experience with them. They may be small but they’re vicious if you’re near their nest.

“Finding a site is complicated!” he complained as if I were deliberately making it difficult.

“You’ll find a good spot,” I said encouragingly, trying to keep myself from mentioning that this was the easy part.

I left him, then, to find a spot on his own. Every bird in the valley had heard about Jim’s challenge and there were eyes on us everywhere. I didn’t know if bets were being taken but there was definitely a lot of interest. I was determined that if, by some miracle, he managed to actually build a nest, I wouldn’t allow anyone to ruin it by telling Jim they’d seen me pick the spot out for him.

I returned a couple of hours later, refreshed from a nice bit of peach and happy with the progress I had made on my song. I would sing it for Jim, if he ever started speaking to me again.

I searched up and down. Panic fought with anger to gain control as I surveyed the meadow, not a sign of Zach to be seen. That stupid, worthless little bird. Jim was right. And now I’d never be able to sing anything for Jim again. He would never, ever forgive me for this!

“Oh, there you are,” Zach said, coming up from behind. “Come see!” he added proudly.

It took a minute to shift from rage to interest but Zach didn’t seem to notice. He was already leading the way into a large flowering bush at the edge of the meadow.

Surprisingly, the space inside was very nice, a wide open space crossed by a couple of sturdy branches, surrounded on all sides by thick foliage and tightly woven branches.

There was more room than I would have expected, and since we had needed to enter at the bottom and hop up several feet through a maze of branches, it looked to be fairly safe from predators. I had to admit the kid had done a good job of picking a site.

Zach stepped aside. Behind him, I saw what could only barely be described as the beginnings of a nest. Without comment, I hopped to the branch where it sat to get a better look.

This nest, if you could call it that, was in the middle of the branch, and as I landed, it bounced, shuddered, and quietly slid off the branch and onto the ground below.

“You ruined my nest!” Zach said, waving his wings in anger.

“It wasn’t attached?” I asked.

“Attached?” he shouted. “You never said anything about attaching it!”

Waving a wing in an effort to calm him, I said, “We haven’t covered that part. We just covered finding a spot.”

Before he could respond with more accusations, I added quickly, “And a very good job you did of finding one.”

Zach stopped, swallowed whatever he was going to say and looked around.

“You think so?” he asked, a little pride starting to show in his voice.

“Yes, I do,” I said, grateful that at least I could be totally honest with him.

Zach looked at the crumpled mess on the ground and sighed.

“This nest building isn’t easy,” he said, more to himself than to me.

“Ah, but think of those beautiful eyes lighting up in joy when she sees what you’ve done,” I said.

Zach shook his head and I could almost hear the debate over whether or not Tara would be worth all this effort.

Quickly, I added, “So, now we need to cover a few necessities, like attaching the nest to the branch.”

Looking pointedly at a rather nice spot where the branch shot off from the main trunk, I said, “I, personally, am fond of crooks where the branch meets the trunk. Usually quite solid, those are.”

By the time we covered methods of securing the nest into the crook, materials best for the stronger, outside of the nest and how to find the best short twigs to fill in, I was ready for another break.

We parted, Zach again excited to see how far he could get before darkness called him off and me actually starting to see a little glimmer of hope. Maybe Jim would be happy enough if he had actually built a nest. The little guy was working at it, he wouldn’t be able to deny that once he saw the nest. Maybe if Tara was satisfied, Jim would accept both Zach and the nest, even if it wasn’t the best in the valley.

Of course, I thought as I flew off toward our family trees, that was a big if. Would Tara, who had never met a bug quite juicy enough, a branch quite secure enough, a creek quite cool enough or a song quite special enough, accept any nest Zach could build, or any nest any bird in the valley could build, for that matter?


Chapter Five

Jim hadn’t asked how the training was going when I arrived back at our favorite tree. We hadn’t discussed anything to do with the nest at all. At least he wasn’t shouting at me. I was afraid that was the best I could expect for a while.

Not that we had much time to talk. We had nestlings and they took all our energy at the best of times. With Jim covering the time I would usually be on the nest, he was too hungry to sit and chat when I returned. He slipped off to feed himself while I saw to feeding the babies.

Fortunately, another row of vines had blossomed out with raspberries and they were just reaching their perfection of ripeness. As I picked them, it occurred to me that even Tara should like these berries.

Once everyone was fed and quiet, he told me of the excitement below the tree early that afternoon, when a cat tried to steal the eggs from a scrub jay’s nest in the bushes. There was a lot of growling and screeching and for a while the outcome was doubtful, but in the end the jay was using bits of fur from the top of the cat’s head for extra cushioning around the eggs. The cat, unhappy and sporting a new bald spot, slunk off grumbling.

He chuckled at the memory and we snuggled up together on our favorite branch, next to our nest. Tara and all the trouble she was causing seemed a long way away.

I dozed happily, listening to the gentle patter of rain drops as they dropped on the leaves above our heads. Warm and dry, it took a while for the realization of what I was hearing to soak in.

I jumped so violently, Jim flew up a couple of feet, shouting, “Who? Where?” His sudden flight disturbed the branches above and a large pool of water fell onto his head with a loud plop.

Seeing only darkness around him, water dripping from his beak, he looked at me in confusion and asked, “What?”

“Rain!” I said, horrified.

“You like rain,” he said, even more confused.

“You…”

I didn’t hear what he was going to ask next. I was already out to the end of the branch and flying off into the night.

“I never mentioned rain!” I shouted back toward him, hoping it would provide some explanation.

I found Zach staring with horrified fascination at his nearly finished nest, completely filled with water, wobbling dangerously back and forth in the crook of the branch.

He looked at me, beak open, eyes wild and then back at the nest. With a sharp crack, the bottom of the nest exploded and the water poured through. We could hear the plop as it hit the ground below.

“This is your fault!”

I tore my eyes from the awful sight to face a now enraged Zach.

“My fault?” I said, surprised to see the anger directed at me.

“You never said anything about rain!” he shouted. “All my work! Ruined!”

I opened my beak to respond but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You don’t want Tara to nest with me! You want me to fail! You deliberately didn’t tell me about the rain!”

“Oh, I think you’ll see how far off base that is,” said Jim softly, working his way up into the space. “Especially when you realize she just left a warm…”

He looked around the space with water dripping loudly from the branches above and continued, “And I might say, dry, spot and risked her life flying across the meadow in the middle of the night, just to see if you were all right.”

“Well, I’m not all right,” Zach said. But Jim’s presence and his calm words were slowly draining the anger out of him.

Jim hopped to the branch that still held the outside rim of what had been Zach’s nest and poked at it as he spoke.

“Of course, if it had been me, I would have mentioned the rain.”

At my gasp, he turned to me.

“Have you no loyalty?” I asked.

“It is an important consideration,” he said.

Zach stretched a wing and shook water off it. I told myself he couldn’t have realized it was flying back right into my face. Surely not.

“But, all my work!” he whined.

Looking at Zach, Jim said, “Well, it might have been a good thing.”

Zach, sitting back in shock, asked, “What do mean by that?”

Pulling a twig from the remains of the nest with a foot and tapping the particularly vicious looking thorn on it with his beak, Jim said, “Did she also forget to mention, no thorns?”

“No!” I said, “I definitely said no thorns!” Looking at a now sheepish Zach, I continued, “I expressly said to find twigs from the Laurel bushes for the inside of the nest.”

Zach looked at his feet and said, barely above a whisper, “They were so far away. I didn’t see why the closer ones wouldn’t work.”

Jim looked around the area and said, “So, you picked a pretty good spot, but I would put the nest over here where these two branches grow off from the main one. Notice it’s still nice and dry. Always good to have a dry spot for the nest.”

Zach gave me a disgusted look and said, “She suggested where the branch meets the trunk.”

Jim’s look sharpened just slightly. I’m sure Zach didn’t see it. But I did and as Zach continued to talk, I backed away. I didn’t think Jim was angry at me, but no sense being too close just in case.

“She said it would be more secure,” Zach whined on. “She didn’t say anything about rain or finding a dry spot or anything like that!”

Jim raised his wings and stepped forward, showing how much larger he was than either Zach or I.

“This is supposed to be your nest!” he said angrily. “Are you stupid? Does someone have to tell you it rains? You never saw it rain before?”

Zach, surprised, stepped back and seemed to shrink into the branch he was standing on.

Jim continued, waving a wing in emphasis as he spoke.

“You couldn’t have looked around and said, gee, it might rain, I should prepare for that? If you think you’re going to nest with our little Tara, then you better not be stupid! She deserves better than stupid!”

I wasn’t sure about the “deserves better” part but I was pretty sure saying anything to that effect at that moment would qualify as stupid.

Zach had raised his head and opened his beak more than once as Jim shouted. He finally stood up to his full height, his stance defiant, his head proud. “I’m not stupid!” he said.

You might have been as disappointed as I was over the lack of originality and indication of deep thought of his answer, but considering how intimidating Jim is when he’s angry, we should give the kid points just for standing up to him. Trust me. I know.

“Well, then,” Jim said, in what I thought was surprising calmness, considering how wild and loud he had been just seconds ago. “You know you weren’t thinking correctly when you built the nest over there.”

Jim held up a wing to stop Zach’s comment.

“No matter what anyone else suggests, you have to learn to think for yourself,” Jim continued.

Looking around, he pushed part of the nest that remained off the branch and onto the ground.

“Now,” he said, ignoring Zach’s gasp. “You know to place it in a dryer place and you know not to use branches with thorns. You’ve been lucky.”

Obviously from the shake of his head and wave of a wing, Zach didn’t agree with the lucky assessment, but again Jim ignored him and went on.

“You could have learned the thorn lesson by sitting on one for hours and hours on end and you could have lost a nest to the rain that held a clutch of eggs.”

Zach looked down at his feet.

“I guess you’re right.” He looked at what remained of the nest and added with a shudder, “At least there were no eggs in it yet.”

“Yes, at least that,” said Jim with a pat on Zach’s back. “So, you’ve got some work ahead of you, but I’d wait until daylight if I were you. It’s a bit dangerous out there in the dark sometimes. We’ll check back on you tomorrow and see how it’s going.”

Jim waited for the nod of agreement from Zach and then turned to me. “Right now,” he said. “I’m going to try and get this crazy bird I’m stuck with back to her own tree without attracting every owl in the country.”

As I was hopping down to work my way out, I heard him say quietly to Zach, “A little trick I learned. When you’re ready to line the inside of the nest, find some of those cigarette butts the people leave laying around all over the place. That white stuff in the end makes a really soft cushion to sit on.

Cigarette butts? That’s where that wonderful stuff comes from? No wonder Zach was always so secretive about it. He hated anything that had to do with people. He didn’t want anything that came from people, not even the fruit they left out for us at the feeders. Ha! I’d have to think of just the right moment to mention I’d heard about the butts.


Chapter Six

The sun had barely broken the surface of the horizon when we heard the joyful sound of Zach, singing as loud as he could from a nearby treetop.

Tara came bounding up the tree branches, more excited than I’d ever seen her.

“He’s finished my nest!” she shouted. “He worked all night, even through the rain!”

It couldn’t possibly be time to rise, I was sure, but Jim nudged me and I stretched my wings.

“How could he be finished so quickly?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Jim said, “But we need something to keep her away while we check it out. I’ve changed my mind about him, he’s trying to do his best. We can’t let him blow it now.”

Oh great. No sleep and now I have to come up with something to keep Tara from rushing off to what couldn’t possibly be a finished nest. But the thought of the disappointment she would feel brought me fully awake. Tara didn’t handle disappointment well, a fact I would rather Zach found out sometime in the future. And if she was too unhappy and refused the nest?

“I’ll send her for some berries to celebrate,” I said without thinking.

“She’s never gone for berries in her life,” Jim said. “Can’t you come up with something better than that. He’s flying over this way!”

“Flowers?” I asked.

“Flowers? For what?” he asked.

“For… For… It’s an old family tradition, don’t you remember? An old family tradition, both birds have to find a special flower to decorate the nest before sitting in it for the first time.”

“Huh?” I forgave Jim. He hadn’t gotten much sleep either.

I nudged him toward Tara, waving a wing. “She’ll believe you. You lie better than I do.”

Still looking somewhat confused, and not moving, he asked, “And why don’t we do this? She’s seen us nesting.”

“Old family nest. Only needs to be done for new ones,” I said quietly as both Tara and Zach landed nearby.

“So, you’ve completed the nest,” Jim said enthusiastically, “How about that.”

“Yeah,” Zach said proudly. “Thanks for the advice, it made it go a lot faster.”

Jim cocked his head, not sure what Zach was saying but before he could ask, I said, “Well, I’m sure you remembered the old family tradition we told you about.”

Zach’s eyes widened and I was afraid for a second he was going to fly off.

“Of course he did,” said Jim, throwing a wing around Zach’s shoulders, most likely, I thought, to prevent an escape. At least Jim was finally on my side in this.

“He wouldn’t forget the flower, would you, old boy?” Jim said. He gave Zach a pat with his other wing, successfully muffling anything Zach was trying to say.

“How about you?” Jim asked Tara.

She had been staring at the strange behavior on the part of Jim and was completely taken aback when he suddenly turned the focus on her.

“Me?” she said, standing up and stepping back. “I didn’t do nothin’”

Hum, now just what had she done to bring such a defense to her mind so quickly? I’d better check the berry stash when this was over.

“Well,” Jim said with a hearty laugh. “Then you’d better get started, hadn’t you?” Don’t overdo it, Jim, I thought. You’re going to make them suspicious.

“Huh?” she asked. Funny, she sounded just like Jim when he was confused.

“The flower,” he said, nudging her toward the edge of the branch. “Better go get that very special flower.”

Both Zach and Tara looked at him as if he had suddenly grown two heads.

“Old family tradition,” I said, bobbing my head. “Surely I mentioned it. Could have slipped my mind.”

“Yeah,” said Jim. “Old family tradition for new nests only. Doesn’t need to be done with old nests, like the one we use. Zach has his, you need to get yours.”

You’re explaining too much, Jim, I thought. They’re going to get suspicious.

But they didn’t. They looked at each other and nodded, like silly old family traditions were old hat to them, as were doddering old birds who forgot to mention them until the last moment.

“She’s always forgetting to mention things,” Zach said, as if reading my mind. He obviously thought we were giving him time to find the flower since the stupid bird had once again forgot to tell him something.

“Tell me about it!” said Tara with a little too much feeling for my liking.

“So, I’d suggest one of those beautiful roses over by the people’s house, those are very special,” I said, trying to maintain a cheerful demeanor. I could let her have it later, I told myself, when she was no longer my responsibility. And that traitor, Zach. See if I ever feel regret for letting him hook himself up with Tara.

Jim nodded and he and I turned to go with Zach back to the nest.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” Tara looked at me with such a helpless, hurt look I almost had second thoughts. Almost.

“Old family tradition rules,” Jim said quickly. “Got to find the flower yourself.”

I nodded and we turned again to leave.

Zach stopped and looked back at us. “But roses have thorns and you said no thorns.”

Jim and I looked at each other. I was all out of old family traditions. If he couldn’t come up with something, we were doomed.

“That’s right,” he said. I could almost see the wheels turning in his brain.

“That’s right, no thorns. So, you’ll have to break the rose off above the thorns, so there won’t be any thorns.”

For a moment I was afraid it wasn’t good enough, but I forgot how badly both Zach and Tara wanted this to work.

“Oh,” she said, nodding. “Of course, I knew that.”

“Yeah,” said Zach. “I should have thought of that.”

So, finally, Tara flew off toward the farmhouse and we hurried to the nest.

“You couldn’t have finished it so quickly,” Jim said as we flew.

“Oh, your suggestion was great!” Zach said. “Made it go really fast.”

“My suggestion?” Jim said.

“You know,” Zach said with a nod in my direction. “Your suggestion.”

“Oh,” Jim said, looking at me with a puzzled look. I almost said, it must have something to do with the cigarette butts but I wasn’t supposed to know about that, was I?

I shrugged and turned away.


Chapter Seven

I was the last one to hop up the branches into the nesting space and only got a glimpse of the nest before Jim threw his wings around me and hurried me back down to the ground.

“You’d better go check on Tara,” he said quickly. “Give us some time, as much as you can. It needs some work, yet.”

I let him push me out from under the bush and I took off back toward the farmhouse with no more than a nod of agreement. It was all I could muster at the time without bursting out into hysterical laughter.

That one glimpse of the nest told me all I needed to know. Needed some work? Yeah, it sure did. Out of what looked like a fairly well framed nest, sticking in all directions were a dozen cigarette butts. Not the fluffy white filling from the ends, but the entire, black, grimy butts. No wonder he had finished so quickly.

My next thought was one of panic. How could I ever delay Tara enough to give them time to fix it? Could it be fixed?

Then, with another flash of inspiration, I thought of a plan. I would disapprove of her choice of flower. How long could I drag that out? Long enough. Well, regardless, seeing Tara’s face when someone else didn’t like her choice? That was going to be fun.

I slowed my flight. Tara wasn’t used to disapproval or anyone disagreeing with her. What if she got mad and went home? I’d better be diplomatic, at least. Oh well, it would still be fun, as long as it worked.

“What do you mean it’s too red?” she said.

“Now, don’t get upset,” I said, soothingly. “That’s why I snuck over here. The boys think I’m gathering berries for the celebration. We’d better stop and gather some berries, too, so they won’t get suspicious.”

“I have to get berries, too?!” she asked in horror.

“No, no,” I said gently. “I’m getting the berries. All you have to do is pick out the flower. I’ll even help you break it off, if you want. Your uncle Jim won’t ever know. You know what a stickler he is about these old family traditions.”

From her look, I could tell Tara had no idea how Jim was with old family traditions, in fact this was the first she had ever heard about any.

Before she could think too long on those lines, I quickly continued, “I forgot to mention red is not a good color.”

“I never knew you had so much trouble with your memory,” she said, looking at me as if wondering what could be wrong with me.

“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “This last clutch has been a lot of work and I’m tired.”

That, of course, reminded me that we had flown off in such a hurry we hadn’t fed the babies. Those boys had better get that nest finished quickly so I could get back to them.

“Well, what color should I pick?” she asked, returning to the important thing, her problem.

“Any color,” I said, “just not red.”

With a sigh, she turned and flew back to the garden outside the farmhouse. We discussed roses versus petunias versus hibiscus and settled finally on a very lovely white rose. I helped her break it off, taking great care and much time in order to avoid the thorns.

Then we flew to the raspberry bushes and it took me a while to decide on which of the berries would be good enough. It wasn’t easy. I was torn between rushing to get this over with so I could return to my little ones and taking as long as possible so Jim and Zach could fix the nest.

Finally, I ran out of things to decide and I could see by her impatient hopping from foot to foot that she was reaching the end of her patience. I had to give Zach credit. He had managed to enthrall her to such an extent she had actually been helpful in the berry decisions. Maybe there was a chance he could turn her into a real mate after all.

“You actually expect me to carry this flower all the way back to that nest?” she asked. Okay, so he had his work cut out for him.

“Yes,” I said, bravely I thought, but there was a limit to what I could do and carrying the berries and the flower were beyond that.

She sighed again and was obviously weighing the benefits of continuing over going back to take a nap.

“Zach’s done a lot of work, just for you,” I said. “He’d be really disappointed if you didn’t bring the flower.”

She sighed again, shrugged and picked up the rose and nodded her head.

We flew the distance, not so far normally but with the worry on my mind it seemed an eternity. Landing on the ground near the bush, I hopped over to the opening and waved a wing in welcome.

“After you,” I said. “This is your big moment.”

In truth, I wasn’t being polite. I just couldn’t face the state the nest might be in, not after all I’d been through.

I heard a gasp and held my breath. Was it a isn’t-this-the-most-wonderful-thing-in-the-world gasp or a what-on-earth-do-you-call-that gasp?

“Oh, Zach, it’s beautiful!” she squealed. I let out my breath in relief and hopped up behind her.

There stood Zach, beaming in pride, and a nearly out of breath Jim. They’d been hustling, that was for sure. But their efforts had been worth it. The nest sat securely and beautifully near the center of the space, lined neatly with small leaves and white fluffy softness. There wasn’t a sign of a single cigarette butt anywhere, Jim must have removed the evidence.

It was obvious, Zach and Tara had completely forgotten we were there, so without a word, Jim and I hopped back down to the ground and flew off to our own nest and our own babies.

I could have teased him about the cigarette butts but I never have. It’s really very sweet, when you think about it, that he would be willing to compromise his own dislike of human things to make my nest more comfortable. Kind of romantic, when you think about it. No matter how long I’ve been with him, he still manages to surprise me. Zach and Tara will be very lucky indeed if they can say that someday.

The End