Chapter 170

They had walked towards the nearby park and sat on a bench overlooking the manmade artificial lake and were enjoying the evening. Birds chirped and fluttered around the birdfeeder nearby. Finches clung to a bag of thistle hanging on a tree branch, only ten
feet from me. They'd grown used to human presence and no longer flew away when someone walked by. She watched them pull the thistle through the tiny openings in the fabric. Their feathers - red, purple and yellow - were beautiful.

From a distant tree, she heard the song of a cardinal - purdy, purdy, purdy. The song changed. It was a starling. Next, it was a version of the robin's evening song. A little later it was a song she couldn't identify. It was a mocking bird. For more than thirty minutes, he sang through his repertoire of songs. He was loud; his singing perfect. He didn't have a song of his own. He mocked the songs of other birds, pieced them together, and created a concert for her enjoyment.

The mocking bird continued to sing, ignoring the hammering from down the street, where workers were building a house. Particularly one old man, a carpenter, used skills, learned as a young man. Over time, the carpenter learned more. He added his personal touch to his work. He took the basics he learned from those before him and made it a creation of his own.