The stout female mockingbird with an aggressive-looking beak tears into the red tunas on a prickly pear cactus. In a nearby tree, her mate softly sings a happy tune. There was a year when he sang loudly, night and day, protecting a nest and their home. Today his song is placid and sentimental, as his mate picks at the rosy, juicy, seed-filled fruit with her curved beak. I remember Dag Hammarkskjold's words, "The Earthly Paradise, from which we have been excluded by our knowledge."
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