A week after we moved to our house in downtown Las Vegas, I was locking our door on my way out when I was bombarded by a bird. Surprised and panicked, I started shouting and waving my hands wildly, trying helplessly to defend myself against the unseen enemy that had flown high after the initial strike. I walked to my car, and as I was opening the door, I heard the sound of a bird’s screech. This time, I saw it diving towards me, so I quickly jumped into the car and hid there.
It was the first but not the last. The Bird attacks become a regular ritual whenever I go in or out of our home. Yasmin noticed that they were nesting in the olive tree in our yard. She explained that they were just being protective “They could be immigrants like us. We should wait until they have the baby, then they will leave,” she added.
Even though the bird attacks didn’t stop, I had to plan defense strategies. I began by gathering intelligence: observing, spying, capturing photographs and videos of the enigmatic assailant. It was an elegant creature with a long tail, a slim body, and a lofty beak. Using Google Lens, I identified it as a mockingbird. Its attack patterns were unpredictable. Mockingbirds are notorious for their dive-bombing assaults, and “bombs” is indeed the correct term. After the initial strike, while you assess the damage, it circles back to attack and bomb you again, relentless in its pursuit.
I was new to Las Vegas, and I thought Las Vegans must come up with a defense strategy against these mockingbird bombs. I asked two friends who lived most of their lives in the valley if they ever were attacked by Vegas mockingbirds. Both never had. This is when I started to notice mockingbirds all over downtown, especially where there are olive trees.
It’s strange how small this valley is, how everything in the city is within a 30-minute drive. So it deceives you, and you walk around thinking that you know it as you know your hands while it keeps its secrets and true treasure hidden between tree branches. Some of them , like us and the birds, are travelers, immigrants searching for temporary shade.
I asked several American friends what to do against bird “dive bomb” attacks, and they all gave the same answer: “Shoot it.” Although I know it’s the American answer to most problems, I couldn’t risk my literary honor and reputation by becoming the writer who killed a mockingbird. Instead, I armed myself with a water gun. Every time I left the house, I would open the door, secure the scene, then sneak out slowly. Sometimes, I would notice the bird getting ready to attack and spray water to scare it off. But the moment I smiled in victory, it would strike from an unseen corner.
While I was busy losing my war with the mockingbird, my wife was giving them water and supplies. The bird didn’t attack her usually, but out of precision, she would open a black umbrella to shadow her and our daughter if they were going out.
Like many families in Vegas, we are an immigrant family. Our life, since Yasmin and I first met, has been a long road crossing through continents, oceans, states, and cities. We moved from place to place, seeking governments that will not shoot or jail us, and willing to grant us residency. After seven years of marriage, this house became our first nest.
Yasmin once whispered to me in a dream that to establish roots, we needed to understand our surroundings. Upon waking, she would make me listen to the mockingbird’s song, admiring its beauty. She explained that the bird might be a traveler, too, and this tree could have been its home for generations, a place where it once laid its eggs.
I started to get to know our neighbors by walking around and taking pictures of the birds, insects, feral cats, and rodents that live alongside us in the city. It’s an exercise I recommend: take pictures of your neighbors and get to know them. Introduce yourself if you can, and learn about them if you can’t. A time will come when you will confront each other, and maybe then, you won’t need walls or guns.
