I had been trusted with the task of feeding the killdeer chicks at the wildlife center. I put trays of food in the shorebird pen. Elaborate trays of shorebird dainties: freshly-thawed tiny invertebrates, insects, duckweed. I was careful to make sure no killdeer got out. It didn't
seem hard, since the appalling sight of a human made them run, crouch, and freeze.
But as I was walking back toward the main building, I heard a killdeer overhead. Nowhere near the shorebird pen. Now I was the one who froze.
Did I let one out? Oh no, did I forget to latch the door? Did they all get out? Oh no no no.
...sounds more like an adult killdeer – it's loud. And close.
Oh.
*#^&+$%.
A mockingbird was atop a high pole, running through his imitations. Starting with some killdeer calls.
Giving me a pang of guilty fear. As if I need any more of those.
If he'd noticed, I'm sure he would have thought it was funny. He would do it again. Which is why it's important to stay stone-faced around mockers. Which you probably know. Because you went to grade school too.
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