Rufous

Mocking birds are one of the easiest birds for me to recognize.  They’re in your face, not afraid of much of anything, sing all the time every other birds’ repertoire, tail in the air, grey with white.  How can you miss them?  The other day I saw an iridescent brown mocking bird…  Ok, mutant in my yard.  Tail in the air, perched on top of the bird feeder, a singing filial. 

Chris called from the window, “Look, in the bird bath.  What is that?”  It was the mutant, dunking and fuzzing itself out.  With great authority I pronounced, “It’s that mutant mocking bird.” 

She went on, unfazed, valiantly trying to ignore her weird husband.  “It’s so pretty, look at its chest.”

That was her diplomatic method for trying to tell me I was nuts.  She should work for the state department.  And looking at it, it was pretty, and different.  It was speckled.  There was something too consistently different.  So go to the bird book.  There it was, plain as day.  A Brown Thrasher.  Not as common as the Mocking Bird, a bit more shy, but it sang with the same imitative call and it liked to perch on peaks, like the top of the bird feeder, a speckled chest, and a rufous back.

‘Rufous?’ 

Webster’s was the next stop.  “Reddish brown.  Can be iridescent in certain light.”

New word.  New bird.  New fascination for my lovely.  I’d say that was a good day.

Rufous to you too.