Author’s note: this story is from my first book, Stories from the Creekbank. It concerns a mockingbird and a place I love called Dry Creek Baptist Camp.
This week is Girls Camp at Dry Creek. The photo below shows four of my granddaughters, my two sisters, my daughter-in-law, a great-niece, and their friends at camp. I am so excited to see another generation experiencing the joys of camp at Dry Creek.
They are sitting near where I wrote this story in 1999. Enjoy!
Each day he sits up there—on the highest limb on the tallest oak in the campgrounds. I call him “King Mockingbird.” The area around the Tabernacle belongs to him. He is the biggest and loudest mockingbird around. It is easy to recognize him high up in the oak tree. His beautiful, loud singing soars above all the other noises of camp life.
Other mockingbirds dare not fly into his tree knowing a good pecking awaits any intruder. Resident cats and camp dogs steer clear of his territory knowing from experience how fierce he is. Even as I walk under his tree I go with all due respect, knowing the inviting target a bald camp manager makes for a territory-loving mockingbird.
And can he sing! There’s nothing prettier than the song of a mockingbird on a clear morning. As I hear him cheerfully chirp, I’m reminded that things may be bad in many parts of the world, but in his area, all is in order.
As I think of King Mockingbird, I’m reminded of the great God who oversees Dry Creek Baptist Camp. He has blessed this ministry beyond any words that we have to describe.
In addition to creating the beautiful song of this bird, He is continually working in the lives of people who visit this place called Dry Creek.
When you visit Dry Creek, be sure to stop and listen to King Mockingbird. And be sure to remember, and worship, our great God who created him.
P.S. The original mockingbird of my story is long gone. However, I bet that one of his descendants is singing happily today as hundreds of girls pass beneath his tree.