Topic: "Eye Opener" (3)
Frodo could see him sitting atop the street light attached to the telephone pole at the end of the cul-de-sac. With the dawn's early light behind him, the mockingbird was going through his paces. He mimicked everything from a robin to a whippoorwill, and he got louder the more he irritated the sleep-deprived Hobbit. Despite the joys of a visit to Sam's home, Frodo spent many hours plotting the demise of this bird from Hell. Frodo fears now that, despite the passage of time, the creature has arisen from the grave to follow and again torment the Hobbit.
Cardinals are among the most striking of all the avian visitors to the Shire. Apparently, the Shire sits right along the territorial imperative of a number of males, for the flashing red is something visible from three or four directions simultaneously. All of that makes for pleasant observations about the feeders and water dishes scattered throughout the gardens. The males are in constant disagreement about which feeder, or which female, is rightful property. Frodo enjoys the action.
Comes the dawn, and one oversexed descendant of a Velociraptor has decided that getting an early start is the best way to prove himself to the adoring female throng. For the past week, he perches in the camellia bush in Frodo's front yard, immediately below the open bedroom window, and has commenced his own version of the "Hawaiian Wedding Song." He does so just early enough to waken Frodo and to prevent him from falling back asleep before the cursed alarm signals time to again commence scaling Mount Doom. Frodo knows that it is some sort of conspiracy, and that he is being laughed at.
There are times when Mother Nature is really a bitch. Frodo wishes he knew what Bilbo had done with the Red Ryder BB-rifle he got some years ago at Christmas. Then again, perhaps he could coach Mr. Beau Neau to set an appropriate ambush and secure himself the feline equivalent of Thanksgiving Dinner. To merely crouch behind the windowsill and softly curse at "Casanova Cardinal" falls far short of the response that such inflammatory action demands.
Frodo fears, arising early some morning, that he will look out and see something flashing past his window in the wind, and it will be a mockingbird, wearing red pajamas. The mockingbird will mimic a pileated woodpecker.