Amongst many feats the Yellow Mockingbird can somersault as well as sing in a discordant way. He is the clown of birds. He is the largest of the warblers and easily mistaken for something else until you listen to him or watch him show off his tricks.
When I was in Panama going to the beach required traipsing a sandy path and cutting through someone’s property which included bulls and cows who were a little disconcerting but largely uninterested in me. And then a clearing through the palm trees opened to an expanse of beach and surf and endless blues and gulls and seashells and peace. Not a human in any direction.
Along the path and in the pasture with the cows grows a massive tree, tall and dark with wide spread arms, I have no idea its identity. On every branch sits at least one Yellow Mockingbird, all of them in shades of yellows and orange, and spinning around doing somersaults. I stopped and stared and watched and marveled. I gaped and I wished somehow I could transport what I was seeing. I knew no one would believe me. This was before the days when your telephone could leave the house with you, oh and shoot a few frames of film.
When I asked the locals the name of the bird they said, ‘Naranga’, which means ‘orange’: a great example of the simplification of language saying nothing, just noise in place of information.
Today, in two clicks I locate the name of the bird in question & can add a link for proof!
So glad am I the days are over of being forever told ‘You’re crazy!’
Enough to make anyone turn orange and perform somersaults on the limb of a branch.