A personal war raged between me and the monstrous beast of nature called a mockingbird for several weeks. Outside my bedroom window is a towering Bradford Pear tree which doubles as a thing of aesthetic beauty and the residence of my former arch rival. My alarm clock is perpetually set to awaken me at precisely six o’ clock a.m.; however Mr. Mockingbird insists that my day begin at half past five instead. Harper Lee expressed her opinion in “To Kill a Mockingbird” that it is a sin to kill the harmless bird does nothing but sing for the world. On numerous occasions I considered going against Harper Lee’s advice. Then one morning, when the bird let out its cry into the morning air, I took another perspective upon the mockingbird and its untimely singing. That morning, the singing of the bird was like music. It gave me a positive frame of mind the second the song reached my ears. Perhaps, just perhaps, the bird was not on a mission to send my life into a spiraling decline. Maybe the bird was there to give me the start I needed to a demanding life. Now Mr. Mockingbird and I get along quite well. He provides the glorious wake-up call I so desperately need to get a positive beginning to my day, and I provide him with a deep appreciation of his music.