Mr. Tough Guy Stands Guard

When I pulled into Mark’s driveway last night he was standing on the sidewalk, barefooted in blue jeans and a t-shirt looking mad. “Damn crows,” he said. “They got another baby.”

A couple of weeks ago I noticed a wild, untrimmed bump in the hedge along the front sidewalk. Otherwise he had trimmed them quite nicely. He told me there was a nest of mockingbirds in that part of the hedge and he didn’t want to disturb them. Last week the eggs hatched and he has been standing guard ever since. The crows have been after those juicy little babies and he’s mad.

This is Mark I’m talking about, slayer of seagulls and deadly predator to lobsters. He may be every lobster-trap-invading wolf-fish’s worst nightmare but he is being awfully protective of those little baby mockingbirds. I love it.

There’s something sort of wonderful about the way new life can make even the toughest, tough guy get suddenly protective. Maybe it’s just that old genetic programming that tells the strong and the brave to stand guard over the young and the helpless. Nature knew what She was doing when She made us that way. I don’t know why we keep trying to deny that. Mark always calls himself a genetic throwback. Maybe he is. But that protective side of him is more charming than I have words for.

Love, I think, is inherent in human nature and you never know what form it is going to take. It is balm to the soul to see someone you care for showing their love even if it is by standing guard over some baby mockingbirds.

Friday night I was in Maria’s, my favorite little Italian restaurant, and there was a couple there with a little boy of about 3 or 4. He was carrying a stuffed toy — a funny, floppy, fuzzy cow — that was, obviously, very much loved. The cow’s furry hide was worn to nap and a piece of silver duct tape had been wrapped around one of his arms. One eye was looking a little worn and it was obvious his stuffing had deteriorated. But the little boy was holding him in the crook of his arm and it was obvious that Mr. Cow was never far from his side.

“That’s a nice cow you have there,” I said. He looked at me with his big eyes and said, “He’s been around for a long, long time.” I guess when you are three or four a long, long time doesn’t take long.

But he loved his cow. There is something just beautiful about old, worn, well-loved toys. I saw a photo exhibit one time that someone had made of such toys and those things were certainly loved indeed. It made me think of the story of the Velveteen Rabbit — whatever is loved becomes beautiful.

Ever since The Old Mermaid’s Tale has been being read by friends I’ve joked that, really, it is just a re-telling of The Velveteen Rabbit — but with shipwrecks and music and, well, sex. But the moral is the same. When you love something, or someone, it is beautiful.

So Mark is keeping watch over his baby mockingbirds and somewhere a worn out toy cow is being hugged by a sweet little boy and I am working on another book and hoping people will like The Old Mermaid’s Tale and understand that the world is beautiful when you see it with loving eyes — even with all its dirt, and crows, and dysfunctions.

Thanks for reading.