I spend about two hours on the rooftop of my building every morning, writing and singing. Most of this activity must (by necessity) remain mysterious, as it will appear (fully realized) with a rock ‘n’ roll band. Let us call this enterprise “Orchestra + Vocal.” You shall be hearing more about “Orchestra + Vocal” over the summer, dear reader. Please stay tuned.
Some of the time, however, I sing to a mockingbird. He is the dominant bird in my neighborhood. If you hear twenty birdcalls (and siren) coming from the same beak, it’s him: the polyglot. I especially like it when he speaks blue jay and nuthatch. I say “dominant” because he’s so loud. He perches on ladders, smokestacks, the crowns of gigantic trees, rooftops, ledges, et cetera.
I have been trying to teach him the bebop song, “Salt Peanuts,” which is usually credited to Dizzy Gillespie. Dizzy played the tune with Bird, but by that, we mean Charlie Parker. I’m not aware of any wild fowls who scat “Salt Peanuts,” except for maybe this feller. Listen to him. Am I right? For a few glittering moments, this mockingbird might’ve been a real hep cat.
This is part of a double issue. If you don’t like songs, you might like a story. See what I lost was this: