This photo was the closest thing that I could get to a still-shot of our resident mockingbirds.
(I have another name for them, but it’s not suitable for a family-friendly blog.)
They set up a nest this spring in our rose shrub, near the victory garden. Last week, they began to assault our poor cat. They’ve even outsourced some of the pestering by enlisting a sparrow to follow the kitty and tweet out her coordinates.
(No, I’m not kidding. I watched this happen over the course of two afternoons.)
And then one evening, one of them came for me. Yes, I was dive-bombed.
Apparently, the bird didn’t care for my roots showing. (What’s with this new trend to calling it “ombre” and pretending that it’s stylish?)
Or maybe, more likely, he was trying to protect his precious baby from the poorly coiffed and manicured woman spreading rosemary cuttings in his vicinity?
Whatever the motivation, that bird was TICKED. OFF.
Which led my friend Pam to say: “Well, he is the state bird of Texas. Makes sense that he’d be a little feisty.”
She’s probably right. Sigh.