Pork Brains with Milk Gravy

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This is NOT a How-To book. Not that I need instructions.

My yard and the lot to either side have been taken over my a mockingbird.

I do mean taken over.

He tolerates a pair of doves but will brook no other intrusion by feathered kin into his environs. Seriously. He will see another bird and whup up on 'em badly. If it's another mockingbird, then feathers are gonna be scattered around.

I do not hugely object to this. It does keep birds from fertilizing the vehicles.

This mockingbird also announces his territorial possessions. Loudly. Frequently. Often. At all hours.

I am not kidding.

3 a.m., he's in the tree outside my bedroom window yelling. As I live on one of the main drags in town, in the middle of a commercial-zoned block, there is plenty of light around the house. Enough light so that this bird is awake a lot.

Normally this would not bother me. I have learned to sleep through the train coming by, the peanut mill working and sirens whizzing by.

Yassee, these are regular, steady and repeated sounds. I have learned to ignore them. I can sleep through 'em.

But this mockingbird with an avian vocabulary that rivals mine won't repeat the same things. He rambles on at great length in a variety of sounds.

Since this is different, I wake up. Mockingbird meanwhile continues to scream defiance and challenge to the feathered kingdom.

Gonna be about the same thing.

In the morning, I leave the house and he's still going at it. I come home and he sits in the mulberry tree and gives me the evil eye, as if I'm the one interrupting his nap time.

Yes, I do live in the City Limits which is supposed to mean I cannot discharge a firearm unless it is in self defense.

I am also told that people who become sleep deprived can died from this, if it goes on long enough.

Hrmmmm.