Читать книгу Bird Lessons - Noah Letner - Страница 3

My enemy continues the relentless assault on my nerves. How could one lone bird make so much noise? The Mockingbird has mastered the art of torture, depriving me of sleep for the past three weeks. Why?

How much longer can I endure such torment? There are laws, I can’t just kill the bird. Would I? Maybe. Anyone having suffered through weeks of Mockingbird torment would understand my plight and forgive my transgression. Alas, I’m not the killer type.

A few attempts at ridding myself of the pest failed miserably. I lassoed the maple tree as high as possible up the trunk for leverage and pulled with all my might to shake the tree. Apparently, he just found that annoying and escalated the noise level. Another evening I used the water hose and nearly drown the poor tree. I’ve tried earplugs and running a fan to drown out the lonesome crooner.

I must admit that I admire his vocal range of whistles, tweets, trills and rasps. The night medley consists of phrases averaging 20 seconds or so and repeated from two to six times.

The brutal bird must be exhausted and finally stops to rest. Another hour passes and the Redbird starts his pre-dawn song and I begin another day that feels like the same day, again. Stepping out on the balcony to greet the morning bird, the night bird remains hidden from sight avoiding my wrath.

“Good morning. At least you know when to sleep and when to sing.”

“Wake up! Stop loafing and get moving!” I know this is what the Redbird says. He says it every morning. He keeps saying it until I leave for work. First, I would need sleep in order to wake up.

“You’ve been sleeping for most of your life,” said a voice in my head different from my own.

Sleeping? What are you talking about? I haven’t slept in weeks because of that confounded bird.

“Did you just answer me?”

“Answer who?” I snapped.

“You did!” the voice exclaimed.

What? No. That’s just me talking to myself, I insisted.

“You heard me and you are responding. This is a conversation.” It appeared that the bird was speaking in my mind.

I’m not just talking to myself but answering, too. This could be worrisome.

“You don’t have the answers, but we do,” it chirped loudly.

“Great, now I’m hearing voices,” I moaned.

“You lost your voice a long time ago. That’s why we’re here.”

You need to be quiet, I yelled in my head. People require sleep for good health and in order to function properly in the world. Three weeks with very little sleep has obviously taken a toll on my senses.

*******

Sleepwalking through work, it dawned on me that many years ago I took a nap on the job thinking I would just rest here for awhile, then move on to bigger and better things, instead I fell asleep and never woke up. Ironic that now I can’t get a good nights rest. I seem to have the entire sleep process backwards. Does that make sense? I’m tired.

Work was a bit more challenging than usual, I made numerous mistakes. It was hard to concentrate. All I could think about was hurrying home and getting to bed before the Mockingbird started the nightly barrage of birdsongs.

*******

Hurrying home and trying to nap was a failed attempt, my mind refused to stop thinking about the bird voice and now my nemesis has awakened.

“I never stop learning new songs,” chirped an excited voice. “I am a bachelor and will continue to sing outside your window until I meet my mate.”

“I hope you meet her soon,” I grumbled.

“When I find my one true song, then she will come and we will fly away together.”

“Well hurry up then and be gone.” I covered my ears with a pillow as if that would muffle the voice inside my mind. How is he doing this? It’s impossible. Maybe I should see a doctor and get some sleeping pills. Laying in bed awake all night under the duress of sleep deprivation makes one think too much -- crazy thoughts -- and apparently hear voices.