Catbird 



From a secluded retreat in the upper branches of the apple 

 tree the catbird, unpredictable opera star of the apple tree 

 community, is singing a sweet, high, one-note trill that's 

 climaxed with a sharper, higher note. And it goes on for 

 hours. Then, perversely, his mood changes, and I wince at his 

 interpretation of the harsh mewing call of a cat, the sound of 

 a squeaky wheel, or the grinding, grating noise of a buzz saw. 



Nevertheless, I invite catbirds to live near me. They enjoy 

 living near people, and will accept any invitation that prom- 

 ises a few low bushes, especially berry bushes, where they 

 can find a sheltered place for a nest. For this small favor 

 catbirds will return spring after spring with their animated 

 greetings. 



One catbird nest can be found in a mock-orange bush close 

 to my home. Newspapers and chewing-gum wrappers were 

 woven into the dry grasses that made up the nest, and then 

 three beautiful greenish-blue eggs were laid in it. 



As I photographed them, the mother catbird flew over and 

 around me with cries of distress. A catbird is noted for her 

 maternal devotion to eggs and young, and will even rush to 

 the assistance of a bird of another species when an alarm is 

 sounded. 



When my catbird visitors arrive in spring they announce 

 their presence with suspicious, penetrating catcalls. But by 

 fall, when they are ready to leave, they slip away without a 

 single note of farewell. Yet I feel sure they will return with 

 the spring and will once more announce the opening of the 

 apple tree community opera season. 



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