sophiaserpentia | an ode to chirp

"Chirp" was the, admittedly less than highly original, name we ended up bestowing on the mockingbird who took up residence in the yard. She was one of the parents (we settled on 'she' because we never heard her singing, but it could have been the male of the pair) who spawned four broods in the yard over the course of two years. She became a grumpy fixture around the place, eating figs on the fig tree as they ripened, chasing other birds away from the food we put out for the feral cat who lives in the yard, and generally being a sourpuss in familiar bird ways. She slept in the misbelief tree in the front yard and we named her after the "signing off" sound she made every sundown.

And in what seems perfectly on theme for this year that is ending, I watched her being killed by a Cooper's hawk in the front yard yesterday. It chased her through the branches of the misbelief tree a few times before finally pinning her to the ground in front of a boxwood bush I think she was going for. We've seen songbirds use the bushes for cover from raptors before.

We think something similar must have happened to her mate, who has not been around in the last week or so.

She is wildlife and not a pet, but I can't help feeling a little bad for her. What seems strangest to me in all this is that a creature can live a full life for years, simply to end as a single meal for someone else. It seems abrupt and crude. Well, I hope her progeny escape the hawk. And I hope the figs are juicy and ripe and the bugs and skinks are bountiful in mockingbird heaven.