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I sat on my deck, enjoying the evening. Birds chirped and fluttered around the birdfeeder in the backyard. Finches clung to a bag of thistle hanging on a tree branch, only ten feet from me. They’d grown used to my presence and no longer flew away, when I stepped out for fresh air. I sat and watched them pull the thistle through the tiny openings in the fabric. Their feathers, red, purple and yellow, pleased my eye. From a distant tree, I heard the song of a cardinal: purdy, purdy, purdy. The song changed. It was a starling. Next, it was a version of the robin’s evening song. A little later it was a song I couldn’t identify. It was a mocking bird. For more than thirty minutes, he sang through his repertoire of songs. He was loud; his singing perfect. He didn’t have a song of his own. He mocked the songs of other birds, pieced them together, and created a concert for my enjoyment. I was reminded of “American Idol,” a show my stepdaughter, Heather, has me addicted to. Hopeful singers competed against each other, singing the songs of others, judged by a panel of three, now four. The top contestants went to Hollywood, where they competed against others. Each week they were faced with new challenges. One-by-one they were eliminated until a winner was chosen. A carpenter built a house. He used skills, learned as a young man, to construct a basic house. Over time, the carpenter learned more. He added his personal touch to his work. He took the basics he learned from those before him and made it a creation of his own. | 
