I once had a large dog who had no idea why a mockingbird was terrorizing him by repeatedly swooping down and pecking his backside, as if he were made of chicken feed. Since I was attached to the dog by his leash, I was also alarmed by the tiny gray bird’s tenacious attempts to pluck out the golden hairs on my dog’s rear.
My husband sometimes refers to me as a mama bear. When he does, I know he’s describing the fierce protective instinct mothers have to shield their young. While I love the ferocity a bear conjures, I see motherhood as more of a mockingbird experience.
As a native Floridian, the Northern mockingbird is as familiar as palm trees, bare feet and humidity. As far as fowl go, they are plain gray birds with a pale underside that aren’t
nearly as flashy as the majestic red cardinal, vivid blue jay or the teetering pink flamingo.
Yet, like mothers, who are often venerated on holidays like Mother’s Day but receive little day-to-day practical support, you would be wrong to underestimate the mockingbird.
Highly territorial, mockingbirds are bold defenders of their young. Being a mother affords many opportunities to be brave. Raising children is an act of hope in a world that often seems more frightful than fantastical. Most of the work we do is unremarkable in our culture — as plain as a peanut butter sandwich on white bread.
Laundry, lunches and last-minute school projects aren’t notable in a society fixated on achievement and accolades. Those things are considered more boring than brave. Yet showing up for others consistently, meaningfully and — often — sacrificially is a defiant act of courage in a world that encourages self-centeredness.
Unlike the bear, notable for its size and strength, the mockingbird, with its delicate features, defies its uncanny capacity to protect its nest. Mothers are no different. We may be easily overlooked, but we vigilantly watch over our children: paying attention to who their friends are, looking out for predators, advocating for their special needs and cultivating their innate talents and interests.
We aren’t fearless. We know how fragile the gift of life is and the responsibilities we have as parents to guide and protect them. We know what they are up against with social media, drugs, human trafficking and the relentless pressure to perform. Sometimes it feels like we are flying blind. It’s our commitment to doing it anyway that makes us brave.
It had been years since I thought about how courageous that tiny bird was to go after something as gargantuan as my large dog with his whipping tail. I recently watched another mockingbird in flight. It made me think of the hardest, holiest and most herculean job of a mother.
After years of guarding the nest, nurturing our young, conquering and consoling, the bravest thing we mothers do is let our children fly away. Often tearfully, always hopefully, we watch our masterpiece of love take flight and find peace in knowing that we will always be a landing spot for their return.
Small but mighty is both the mother and the mockingbird.
Lara Patangan lives in Jacksonville and writes about faith at LaraPatangan.com. Her first book, “Simple Mercies,” is available now.
This guest column is the opinion of the author and does not necessarily represent the views of the Times-Union. We welcome a diversity of opinions.
This article originally appeared on Florida Times-Union: Why the mockingbird is a strong symbol for Jacksonville moms | Opinion
