Except. . . . There’s no exceptions. He’s a bird
like every other bird. He’s just a bird
and even birders give this bird a pass.
He isn’t like a California Quail.
He’s not a star. And even though he walks
and runs along the ground like quail
he’s not a quail and so he might as well
be hidden in the chaparral. Who cares?
Who ever visited the Pinnacles
to see a California Thrasher when
there’s California Condors to be seen?
And yet, there’s something. There has got to be
a reason why I search the bushes for
this little mimic who pretends that he
is someone else. Perhaps the reason why
I watch for him is that he’s just like me.