"The Rhythm Is Gonna Get You"

Tap, tap, _ tap, tap, tap.  Tap, tap,_tap, tap, tap. Slowly the rhythmic tapping intruded on my thoughts as I busily trimmed the overhanging branches along the north fence line. The sound came from behind me, so I ruled out a woodpecker - no trees back there. The rhythm was wrong anyway.  The only thing nearby was the truck, waiting for another load of brush.  Tap, tap, _ tap, tap, tap.  I thought of metal cooling, but I'd only moved the truck across the yard, not far enough to heat up any metal.  The rhythm was wrong, anyway.  I looked around and saw nothing unusual.  Still, the tapping continued, coming from the vicinity of the truck. It was almost eerie, as if a person were tapping, 1,2, 1,2,3, over and over.  By now a bit unnerved, I walked warily toward the truck and got right up to it before I saw the percussionist __ a mockingbird attacking the rear window.  No doubt it was the same nutty bird that was attacking the car last weekend. but it had a new rhythm today. Maybe it was indigestion induced by all the purple berries it had eaten and was rapidly depositing all over the truck box.  Clean up in aisle 2!   The crazy thing was undeterred by my presence, so I went back to clipping branches, tempted to cha cha to the beat as I worked.  That would have been a sight! When quitting time came, I moved the truck back to the driveway, and the bird rode half way across the yard with me, still pecking away at the glass.  Every day has its own rhythm out here in the country.