Also, when I tell you this bird is loud, I mean ounce-for-ounce it is the Mick Jagger of the bird world. Those of you, who've been unfortunate enough to have the real Mick Jagger sitting in a tree outside your bedroom window singing Stone's songs loudly during the night, know how annoying this can be.

One night the bird started chirping early, at 11:30. We were still up, so Beth went outside to yell at it. Instead of yelling, I heard her talking, and naturally I assumed she was pleading with the bird to keep quiet.

She wasn't, but that's the sort of wacky behavior being under siege by a psychotic mockingbird and not getting enough sleep causes. Before you know it, you're explaining your side to the animal: "I have to get up early for work," you will say.

Instead, Beth was talking to our neighbors. They, too, heard the bird chirping and came outside to see if, perhaps, they couldn't quiet the bird down by gently using their fist to shove the bird's beak all the way back into its neck until the beak actually touched the bird's own tail feathers from inside.

I joined them near the tree and, reacting completely on instinct alone, shook the tree branches. The bird flew off. We wondered if that had solved the problem. As if shaking the tree would scare the bird away for good. As if the bird flew off thinking, "Ooooh, I better stay away from that tree." Birds sit on power lines, fly during hurricanes, for Chrissakes, they even eat worms! They're not afraid of a little branch shaking.

Still, the bird didn't chirp again the rest of that night. That's because it was planning its revenge.

The next night around 11 o'clock the mockingbird, knowing full well that I was still awake (it probably peeked in the windows first), starting chirping. I, being a member of the highly intelligent human species with a brain a gazillion times larger than the bird's brain, went outside to the tree and shook it again. Unfortunately, my intelligent human-sized brain forgot to factor in the rain we had had that day. I was drenched by the rainwater falling off the leaves. I could hear the mockingbird laughing at me in a sinister and maniacal way.

Friends have offered many helpful suggestions for getting rid of the mockingbird, including the use of air horns, BB guns and napalm. Admittedly, all good ideas.

But Beth, in her sleep-deprived delirium, turned to the one thing that we humans have that birds don't: access to the Internet. There she discovered a website (birdwatching.com) that explained exactly why the mockingbird was acting this way. Apparently, it's a male mockingbird looking for a female.

What this tells us about the mating habits of mockingbirds is how eerily similar they are to the mating habits of young adolescent human males in that both species think a surefire way of attracting a female is by acting like an obnoxious jerk.

Not that this method doesn't work. Each night, in a tree near our house, I'm sure there are single, female mockingbirds talking amongst themselves:

Female Bird #1: "Listen to Mr. Chirp-all-Night. Sheesh!"

Female Bird #2: "I bet he still lives at home in his parent's nest, too."

Female Bird #3: "I dunno, I think he's kind of cute."

Female Birds #1 and #2 (in unison): "Eeeeww."

In any case, I hope he finds a girl bird soon, settles down, and stops the midnight chirping. Otherwise, and this is its last warning, I'm getting the napalm. And my umbrella.

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