I adore my "baby" brother; we've always enjoyed friendly banter over the decades. I sometimes am surprised how much alike we think on some subjects, yet how differently on others. One of the subjects on which we differ is the Texas State bird, the mockingbird.

My brother detests them. On full-moons they sing loudly all night long, keeping him awake, he says. If it weren't illegal to shoot them, my redneck bro would surely have made mockingbirds an endangered species ... at least in his area.

Me? I love mockingbirds: Not only do they mimic other birds and mechanical objects beautifully (They do a great job reproducing the sound of  a squeaky gate or the old style car alarm), but they're brave and feisty. A ticked-off mockingbird will chase crows and eagles, even when it's not nesting season.

My husband and I love to sit on the upstairs deck in the morning, sip coffee, plan our day, and listen to all the birds, but particularly to the mockingbirds. The other morning, a mockingbird was imitating a wren and kept the "conversation" going for two or three minutes before the wren got teed-off and left. (I know, I know: anthropomorphism, but I swear the little wren was peeved!)

That morning was sunny, and he (We call all mockingbirds "Marty") was singing his heart out, as if in celebration of the warmth and brightness of that January day. The next morning dawned cloudy and cold. Unfazed, Marty's cheerful notes burst through the gloom, as if he were reminding the sun it was time to come out to play. Our Marty sings during full moon, and serenades us on dark nights. He doesn't seem to allow his external environment dampen his spirits.

Seems that the male mockingbird with the largest repertoire (No, not a body part) is the most attractive mate to the females. The more songs he can show-off, the more he's likely he'll be chosen sire the next batch of birdies. So, while Baby Bro complains and moans about the racket of the audacious avian romeos, I celebrate that "Yo! Stud-bird!" lives in my neighborhood!

Baby Bro's and my different reactions to identical avian antics lead me to wonder: Do many of us find someone's constant cheerfulness grating? Is our reaction caused by our lack of joy? If so, are we willing to adjust our perception and allow another's positive attitude to buoy our own  spirits?

Yeah, maybe someone's effervescent attitude is a bit easier to appreciate after our downing a cup or two of coffee.  In either case, though, we can choose a positive focus; or we can choose a negative attitude by focusing on what irritates us. Our choice of focus augments whichever set of feelings we select.

Just in case I change my mind about mockingbirds, though, I'm keepin' earplugs by my bedside. Hmmm, maybe I'll send a few sets of those plugs to my anti-avian sibling to tide him over until he adjusts his attitude!