To Kill A Mocking Bird - Literally.

Several years ago, we got a visitor that arrived at our house and took up residence in the thick row of bushes beside our pool. We never saw him and we had no idea what he looked like. All we knew was that he made the most ridiculous laughing sound. Not exactly what you wanna hear when you go outside in your bathing suit.
 
With the help of Google, we decided it was probably a mockingbird. We tolerated him the first summer, because we didn't know what else to do, aaaaand that was the year we had our exchange student from Japan, therefore, we tried not to engage in activities that involved weapons or the destruction of wildlife in front of him. We’re representin’ the USA, yo. Let’s everybody try to act normal.

But the following year, he showed up again, and one hot July evening, my husband reached his breaking point when he thought the bird was laughing at him. Not too many people have seen my gentle giant of a husband get really angry, but those of us who live with him know what to look for. The eye shift. You'll know it if you see it, and if you see it, I suggest you just back away slowly.

Anywho, he bolted from his lounge chair and headed to the barn. The kids and I silently looked at each other and waited to see what was about to happen. When he emerged from the barn, he had a rake in one hand and a high-powered-super-soaker-water-rifle in the other, and he was going toward the bushes. For the next twenty minutes, we watched as he beat our bushes with the rake and shot columns of pool water into our landscaping. Then he would stop and listen. And the bird would laugh at him. In the bird's defense, it was pretty funny.

 
This went on until the culprit finally stopped laughing and my husband, coated in sweat, convinced himself that he won the battle against the Mocking Bird and his eyes went back to normal.  
 
For those who are about to jump to the defense of a poor innocent mockingbird, save your rage. Turns out, it was a tree frog…and he hopped his super-soaked ass back to the cornfields where he belonged.
 
Who’s laughing now, huh?