Cornershot

There’s a very hard-working bachelor who lives in my neighborhood.

I know this because I’ve been hearing him most nights this spring, singing songs to attract a mate through the wee hours of the morning.

Sometimes he starts at 11 p.m.; sometimes he starts at 2 a.m. And he goes on for hours.

I’m impressed by his determination — and strength. I picture him in the darkness, high up on a tree branch, singing and singing because he’s still alone, still searching for a partner.

He probably also sings during the day, when his songs mingle with those from the other birds — birds who need their rest, and retire one by one as night comes, so they can recharge for a new dawn.

But not Mr. Mockingbird.

Research has it that he’ll spend 14 to 28 days straight singing until he finds a Mrs. Mockingbird, and that he may do it all again in mid-summer, for a second brood.

When my nights go quiet again, I’ll miss his clear-throated songs, but it’ll be nice to know it’s because his hard work paid off.

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