The Tribune

By Gardener Jack

Our textbooks tell us that birds evolved from dinosaurs that developed hollow bones and feathers and learned to fly. This seems like a flight of fancy until one looks at dinosaur and bird skeletons: almost identical. I have dinosaurs in my yard and they are taking over. I’m thinking of changing the name of my garden to Jurassic Park.

The dinosaur/bird in question is the mockingbird, a ferocious creature that terrorises all the other birds and the human occupants in its assumed territory. Its prickly nature leads it to fly far and take on gliding buzzards, like fighter planes attacking a lumbering bomber.

Mockingbirds are particularly pugnacious during the mating and nesting season, not allowing any creature near the nest. For most of the year mockingbirds are noted for their singing, performances of outstanding virtuoso where snippets of song are stated, repeated, and then abandoned for the next variation on a theme. Listening to a mockingbird in full throstle is a joyful experience that disguises the avian’s darker side.

A pair of mockingbirds moved in four years ago to build a nest, and were welcomed. They built their nest in a clerodendrum shrub near the edge of the property where traffic was light.

They laid the regulation four light blue eggs and it was interesting to note how the male and female shared the chores of egg sitting and food scavenging. By choosing the right moments I was able to photograph the whole process from eggs to ugly yellow-beaked hatchlings to scruffy fledglings.

Once the offspring were flying and capable of looking after themselves, the parents disappeared. That gave me something to think about. Cat Island? Costa Rica?

Whether the four offspring paired up or took outside partners, I do not know. There was a period when there were many mockingbirds fighting or making nice (it’s hard to tell the difference with birds) and when that was all over we were left with a pair of mockingbirds that obviously looked upon my garden as home.

Over the years the cycle has continued. Last year the April chicks were killed by a raptor and the parents set about building a new nest and laying new eggs. The products of these became airborne and independent in early summer.

My grandchildren are very precious and sweet individuals. Put several of them together, however, and they become – à la ‘Lord of the Flies’ – a bunch of mischief. They roll a ball over towards the nesting area and then get the youngest to go and retrieve it. When the parent mockingbirds attack, swatting and pecking, the older grands hoot and scream with laughter.

The location of mockingbird nests changes human routines. A direct route from the kitchen door to the garbage bins can no longer be taken. A visitor who likes to come in the back way soon switches to the front. This year a nest was set up in a sour orange tree just ten feet from my potting table. I potted nothing for a month.

And pity my pets. Mild-mannered Happy is an easy-going dog that barks all night to let us know he is doing his guardianship duty. Whenever she ventures too near to a mockingbird nest she has her tail end pecked to pieces. Prickles, our fabulous feline, is a far more ominous creature and may very well have designs upon the contents of the nest. The mockingbirds will not allow her within ten yards of the nest, swooping in on her from angles that make her vicious claws useless.

I have noted that no single shrub or tree has been host to more than one nest. This year the first nest was in a silver buttonwood, the second in a red cedar, the third in a sour orange, and the newest one in a mango tree.

I have no idea why mockingbirds have taken over my yard. They chase away all other birds that dare use my garden as a fly-through zone. They make life very inconvenient throughout spring and summer, but if they ever left I’d miss them.

gardenerjack@coralwave.com