This piece is an outtake. I wrote this awhile back. And anyway, it is what it is. It doesn't have any revision, nor will I go back, as it was a spur of the moment thing. I came across a bird site while I was doing some logos and started jotting things down, kind of in poetic form. I think I must have just left Pat's shore, seeing some of the notes sounded in rhyme galore, ha. Anyhow, thought I'd just stick this poem into the blog and bury it as time goes by. But for those who read the piece it's almost all bird names, there are so, so, so, so many. As I was taking notes I thought I'd do em' all, but then realized just how many there actually were, and said enough's enough.
In perusal, I did find,
That God himself, is fond of birds
He practices ornithology
And the planet is his aviary
The Tinamous can be great or elegant of crest
While the Ostrich is common
Burying head in shame
Rheas are even greater, so much so Darwin provided some of them his name
Cassowaries can be Southern or Dwarfed, where the Emus are similar yet then again not so much
Kiwis aren’t just for slang or to decorate trays of fruit. They are brown or with little spots
Gamebirds are vast indeed. Spreading from sea to sea, from the malee’s that are fowl, to the brush-turkeys, in between you can find the Maleo’s and the Chachaluca’s, perhaps a Curassow, yellow-knobbed yet still proud, not like the Guan and their horns, crests and dusky legs. Guinea fowls some claim are vulturine, others refer to them as helmeted, either way they’re not the same, no one will confuse the two, with The Wild Turkey roaming by all the Bob Whites. Ruffed, Sage, or Spruce the Grouse can be, as different as each may be, there still are but three. Californian or common, Living in the Jungle Bush or planning something Montezuman, the quails are much more than their stereotype prints out.
The Capercaille’s of the west and the Cocks of snow, dance upon the Himalayan mountain’s ledge. Chuckar, Crested, Hill or Gray, a partridge does more than sing for you. Cape Spur Fowl for sure, as any Blyth or Satyr, maybe even Temminck’s Tragopan will tell, the Pheasants are sometimes filled with blood, when not common, they’re either Golden or hanging out with old man Elliot, hanging out on his rug. Ptarmigans sound prehistoric, but they rock and willow, not like the Chickens and Chickadees that are best served breaded and dipped in oil.
Great Argus, tell me why, the Red Jungle Fowl’s live life in denial? Why do we digress to the role of a Mourning dove, instead allow our plumes to shine, as the peacock will show you theirs most every time?
In the water there are many more, some larger than others but fowl for sure.
Horned and Southern Screamers or the White Faced Whistling Duck, so many geese I don’t know if I dare to even touch.
Swans so symbolic to the human, yes, but they can be Black like ballerinas that succumb to pressure’s hug. They can be Mute, found on Tundra’s or Whooper’s too. Mallard’s and Gadwells won’t be found in most zoos.
Penguins are cute like Opus. They might dance like they have happy feet. Most often however they live together in one large, very extended family. You have an Emperor and then a King, Rockhoppers, Yellow-eyes, Macaroni’s and they have their Fairy’s too, penguin mythology and heraldry forever will ensue.
Northern Shovelers, Greater Scaup’s
Elder Kings, Goldeneyes you won’t find with Bond, wading about in the The Brown Teals’ pond. Grebes are little, White-Tufted or Hoary-Headed, some are even owned by Clark while others are clearly Great Crested.
There are so many more, too many to spell, but we shall complete our conversation here with the Albatross and the Petral.
Abatrosses can be Royal, or they can Wander, yet often times, they are Black-Bellied or Sotty, now that’s some news that won’t make the papers. But Petrals, some love the Snow, others so much so, Antarctica is where they’ll be found. Closely related, in the same family, distant cousins will occasionally pop in their heads. There’s the Prion, who hangs with those birds in the Antarctic icy cold, the Cahow, and the Short-Tailed, Sooty or maybe even Cory’s Shearwater will join in the fun, but the oddly named Manx is the butt of many feathered tale.
But to end, as with any family, you have your sunshine and you get your storms. It is the same for the Albatross/Petral clan, where the Storm might be found on Cape Wilson, they might be coveted by Leaches. They can be Black of the Belly and Ashy too, some distant storms find their way, all the way to Europe too. So many birds, so little time, and I never even talked about the pigeons, Robins, Seagulls or those of you’ll find in the Blackbird lines.
