Cicadas, Nightjars and "Singing Moles"

In Patrick's usual Sunday post at Born Again Redneck he mentioned the peculiar buzz that a bird makes that lives about his Robin's Woods empire. He called it a nightjar.
I commented that maybe it was in fact an insect, saying that my Mom called cicadas 'nightjars'-and I have heard others call them that. Must be a regional thing.
Anyway, it got me to remembering Mom and her delusional innocence of the world and I got to wondering if Mom just might have been wrong about nightjars. This little story at her expense will explain that.

My Mom was a simple gal. By that I don't mean she was impaired mentally in any way, but rather her view of the world was simple. She took everything in with a child like trust that you weren't b.s.-ing her. She was, like alot of God creations, just as smart as she needed to be. I think if we honestly consider that, we can say the same for most of us. (although I know I'm not as smart as I want to be!)

So because of her simple trusting nature, alot of her understanding of how things were in the world were really quite wrong. But these were things that didn't impair her going about her day to day life. Just silly misconceptions, that's all. Notions that got imbedded in childhood and never questioned. Just accepted as fact. One evening many years ago one of her "facts" got shattered. At the time we all got a good laugh out of it, even Mom finally came around and realized the folly-after the inital shock wore off-and could laugh at her foolishness.

It was about 12 years ago, hubby and I had made the journey out there to San Diego to visit my folks with the new grandchild in tow. It was Christmastime. One evening the 3 of us-Mom, Dad and myself were enjoying the cool California dusk from their big yard swing. The neighborhood was washed in that orangey pink post sunset glow and somewhere, in a neighboring tree, doves were cooing. There was a lag in the conversation. The doves continued their woo-woo-wooooo woo-woo-wooooing.
Mom, never one to let conversation slip, had to make a comment.

"My! Just listen to those moles! Betcha it's gonna rain soon."

I looked at Dad, Dad looked at me- we both had puzzled looks on our faces. But Dad's was starting to show a grin. This was too good for the joker in him to let pass. Alrighty, he'll play along: "Whatta ya mean, Ma?"
"The moles, silly! Listen to them!" she then tried to replicate the doves call, but it came out as a stifled bellow. "My pa always said when the moles sing like that, it means rain is on the way. We had a bunch of singing moles around our place when I was growing up. You know, you'd never think something like that could make a sound so pretty...Oh, I just love to hear them!"

Dad couldn't keep up the straight man act any longer. "Lands sakes, Ma!! Them's DOVES ! Your dad was jokin' with you...Lord a'mighty!"

Mom had a look like she was about to cry. " Well, I'll be! Really?... Doves?" she looked at me. I nodded...it took everything I had not to just burst out with a major league guffaw at that point.

"Well, why did he say that?" Now she was getting upset, now she was probably wondering about everything else her dad may have told her. Her little world had just took a big hit and was now spiralling out of it's happy, complacent orbit. She looked like she was about to cry. I guess the closest one could compare this moment to was finding out there wasn't a Santa. Except Mom was in her 70's at this time. She had carried that joke as fact with her all those years. I reckon the right occasion to shatter the myth had never come up until now.

I began to feel alittle awkward, we really shouldn't be making fun of her ignorance and she seemed so devestated by it. But, darnit, Mom made it so easy.
Just then the trio of doves took wing and swooped to a powerline just within our line of sight.

"Now lissen, Ma...." Dad pointed to the group of doves and, as if on cue, they began their cooing again. It was unmistakable as to where and what was making that sound.
"Why...I had no idea!!" She stared slack jawed at the birds. "All these years....." her voice trailed off.
We decided we better just leave it at that. Let that shocking realization just sink in without comment.

None of us ever brought it up again in her presence, but now and then whenever Dad and I were alone and outside and there just happen to be the cooing of doves in the background noise, Dad would lean over to me and whisper: "Moles!" and I would always reply "Yep...s'gonna rain."
And we'd both just grin.