BIRDS.
They are all around us. In the trees, flying here and there in the sky and pretty much everywhere their wings can take them. They come in all shapes and sizes. Some are cute and others are ferocious. They are the birds. I really adore them but i really hate some birds or their actions. Yep i am talking about the bird poop. I mean who likes bird poop falling down from the sky and onto their head. It's really gross and the fact that others make fun of you for it makes it even worse. I personally haven't experienced this but i have witnessed it happen a lot of times. And this also happens with an impeccable timing. I mean it's fun for others but to that person, no it's not.
But other than that and allergies and violence you can't find a single thing to criticize our flying friends. They are very loyal and caring.
This is just a critical short essay about birds. Anyhoo i love them ♤
kingfishers
they are supposed to be kingly fishers.
so what the hell were they doing, nesting on top of a walnut, next to my fifth-story dorm room?
we were about thirty miles from river, pond, or stream.
and yet, these colorful fellows were colonizing the place!!
i spent early mornings looking at their antics. i tried to entice them with presents left on the windowsill.
but they don't fall for such bribes.
sadly, at some point they decided that living off of the land is antithetical to their rebelious nature.
they left me alone. looking at a branch of a walnut tree...
Drops of Energy (hummingbirds)
Some birds seal themselves in logs,
Make their mates work just like dogs.
Others speak quite knowingly.
How impressive they can be!
Birds can count, add, and subtract.
Brains these birdbrains never lacked.
Homing pigeons formed a link,
Helped allies know what to think.
Bright canaries sacrificed,
So humans were well advised.
Crocs’ birds aren’t idiotic
Their lives are symbiotic.
Of all these that defy words,
I’m most charmed by hummingbirds.
For twelve hundred miles they fly,
Nonstop, logic to belie.
Little drops of energy,
Hummingbirds have synergy.
Bird watching
Every year I looked forward to the week we would get to visit my grandma at the beach. She had a really gorgeous house with a big screened in porch that looked out into a forest, swamp, or forest again (depending on which year and in turn which house). Every morning I would find her sitting out there just looking. Birdwatching. She had these little binoculars that didn't really work and a big book about native birds in her area. We would look through and try to find as many of the varieties as possible. One year she even made all the kids a list and turned the whole thing into a competition. We would check off every time we saw one of the birds on the list, and at the end of the week the winner would get a special prize. Now, I of course did not win because I didn't wake up early enough to sit out for a long time and watch the birds, but she still gave everyone something. We all got these little wooden birds attached to a string. I think they were intended to be Christmas ornaments or something but mine is hanging on my window. Every time I look at it I'm reminded of those blissful years, and peaceful mornings looking at birds with the most wonderful woman I know.
My neighbours, the birds
Birds!
I could almost hear the little furry squirrel grind its teeth as it chased after the sparrow who had just settled on the narrow branch of the Persian silk tree in front of my window. Well satisfied with the sparrow’s startled flight, the squirrel chattered away as it made a flying leap into the neighbouring tree.
The sparrow, true to its reputation as a hardy survivor of the ages, perched itself on the highest branch of the tree for its morning break, secure in the knowledge that its adversary wouldn’t come so high up.
The pretty flowers of the large shrub that also faces my window shone brightly yellow in the morning sun. I watched my favourite ice-cream birds take a dive from the shrub and swoop onto the ground to peck at tasty worms going about their morning chores. Their black wings have a white petticoat which peeps out coyly when they are still and flares into a white arc when they fly. Seated, they look just like chocolate vanilla ice-cream.
Another daily visitor is the coppersmith barbet. Green as a parrot but much more petite, with its distinctive red crest glowing right in the sun and yellow eye-masks, it looks like a shy and pretty bandit especially when you hear its sharp, distinctive calls.
The mynah, which often perches on our window sill with a view to finding food, also has yellow eye-masks but with its simple brown colouring is no match for the barbet in the beauty stakes. There is a profusion of mynahs for there are very many trees in front of my window and it is not uncommon to find pairs of mynahs in the various trees, making not a sound, just watching with their exaggerated yellow eye make-up on.
My personal favourite is the little yellow bird whose name I know not. No more than a few inches long, its plump yellow stomach is never full. Its daily afternoon visit to the Crossandra flowers blooming in our windowsill is a given It sucks greedily from the funnel shaped flowers, then perches on the window sill, tiny belly full of nectar, and sings a loud, melodious song for us by way of thanks.
There is of course the far too occasional visit of the regal kingfisher that spreads delight among all us human watchers. Then we have the bats that have been seen only once (thankfully) and a large, still bird with the orange overcoat who visited briefly for a few days and then disappeared, never to be seen again. Not to mention the black, cawing crows that are seen everyday, vying with each other and scaring the other birds away when food is around.
I forgot the cuckoo! The male cuckoo, black as night, with neon-red eyes enough to scare children away, opens its mouth and lo and behold, even the children stop and gape. The melodious ‘koo koo’ that pierces the day all through the summer, meant to attract the female cuckoo, instead ends up entrancing the human variants. The female cuckoo, in the meanwhile, spotted brown all over, silent and disdainful, ignores the male for so long that the male is reduced to singing in the nights at time, unable to control his desire and unable to fulfil it.
With trees so alive with birds, their singing and livinng filling our ears and minds, I thank the powers that be everyday for permitting us the joy of birds around us.
I have a pet bird named Stewart. He's a pineapple green cheek conure and he's such a cute little guy. my history with Stewart is pretty strange, considering we bought him as an impulse buy. we went to PetSmart to look at the animals just for fun and we saw this little bird dancing and trying to fly. He would throw his food and toys in the air, trying to catch them with his little bird foot or in his beak. He would roll over onto his back and flail his little feet up in the air, rolling over again to dance and flap his wings. We got to meet him and ended up taking him home. For three years, this little bird hated me, biting me hard enough to bleed. when we got a new dog, he was kind of forgotten about, so I decided to take my chance and bond with him while my family was busy with our puppy. He's now my best friend, completely trusting me. he loves to do stuff with me, hanging out on my shoulder while I do the dishes (his favorite!!) or watch tv, or even play video games. He'll stand on my collarbone and snuggle up to my chin, often falling asleep. He's afraid of most things, especially bright/bold colors like white, yellow, pastel orange and baby blue. He loves playing with my hair, although sometimes he gets stuck. We listen to music together, he loves the Arctic Monkeys and the Beastie Boys the most. He just turned five years old last month ano he's still the quirky baby bird he was when we got him.
Freedom of the Birds
I observe them from my balcony as they fly across the sky. And truly, I envy them. They are free up there. Free to go wherever they want to go and whenever they want to go. I’ve always wanted to be a bird, to fly everywhere, and deeply inhale the sweet air of freedom and tranquility. But I’m not a bird. I’m just a man trapped in this horrible world of modern slavery and madness of humanity.
But I wish to fly…
Maybe I will soon…