The Mockingbird

The mockingbird whistled and chirped and howled all day yesterday.
At one point, I asked my son what the bird was whistling. He wasn't sure, but it was Imitation Phoebe.
Hours later, in the darkness of deep bedtime, Rebecca called me in to hear the mockingbird.
It was mimicking car alarms and carolina wrens. That's when she told me that it was making this relentless display as a mating call.
He went all night and was still going strong in the morning. The unending stream of horniness was enough that Rebecca had to shut the windows and put on the air conditioning to get some sleep.
"This could become the foundation for a tv show." she explained.
"Yes," I replied, "Our mission - our quest - could be to get this damned mockingbird laid."
"Find a mate?"
"Yes - or shoot him."
"I'd rather throw rocks at him."
"Me too." But the persistence of the call was almost supernatural. It was clear in a sense that our bird was hoping to annoy his way into mating.

Tonight as I lit coals for our dinner, I saw him atop the apartment building across from us, acting nervous and unhinged. In an instant, I was inspired by the 40 Year Old Virgin... I started whistling.
I did cardinal calls.
I did mourning dove calls.
I whistled "Ode to Joy" and "Dueling Banjos". Anything I could think of...
As I started to whistle "Third Stone from the Sun" he suddenly flew away.

The night, as of 5:23 this morning, is quiet.