Wren by Pauline Cleary

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Foraging through undergrowth,
the Superb Fairy Wren
jauntily hops and bounces

velvety blue plumage; black-masked;
yellow petals collected
for its grey-brown mate.

Daintily, it dances
from earth to bough to leaf;
the garden its stage.

Flash of blue; flicker of brown;
bringer of joy
straight to the heart.

Photo from Pexels by Walter Coppola

Birds of a Feather by Erica Chester

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We all know kookaburras
love to sit in old gumtrees,
But how ‘bout welcome swallows
twirling on the breeze?

The palm cockatoo
loves to drum his homemade sticks,
While his cousin, with the sulphur crest,
loves to do his tricks.

The colourful rainbow lorikeet
loves to play and chatter,
But the serious powerful owl 
likes to focus on things that matter.

Curious black and white magpies
like to warble right on dawn,
Whilst the crow caws away
His sound is most forlorn.

Beautiful little fairy wrens
are hopping all day long,
While the pied butcherbird
sings his melodic song.

The scatter-brained bush turkey
likes to scratch around,
While spotted green catbirds
make an awful wailing sound.

What a wonderful, noisy, crazy,
Colourful and cheery bunch,
Who tweet and chirp and caw 
and laugh and drum and screech and munch.

Image by David Clode from Pixabay

Living and Giving by Jan Darling

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Hello! Is anyone there?  Hello and Hello!
I’m the handsome Cape African buffalo
No one’s succeeded in taming me
So I live contented, wild and free

Apart from hopeful lions and crocs
I survive quite well with very few shocks.
My worst nightmare? to be stalked and hunted
And by men with guns to be confronted

They shoot me dead, my blood runs red
Then on their walls they mount my head.
No care that each pair of stolen horns
Leaves a buffalo mother who weeps and mourns.

We’re one of Africa’s most dangerous beasts
At frightening hunters, we’re quite the artistes.
We’re heavy and stocky and pretty darned large
So, gun bearing hunters who force us to charge

Take one of us on and you take on the herd
We all fight together, once given the word.
Both buffalo genders grow great curly horns
Just perfect for running through bush and through thorns

The horns of the male grow a whole fifth longer
And they’re joined in the middle to make them stronger
This difference in structure is called the ‘boss’
The females don’t have it, but it’s really no loss.

Cape’s a strong buffalo – eighteen hours on the go
Daily hunting and grazing and dodging his foe
Thirty points off two m* is around his height –
Now that’s tall enough to give hunters a fright.

And get this:  he can often weigh close to a ton
A beast that size could sure spoil your fun.
Now – here’s a special word to enrich your life
But using it may cause all sorts of strife

Most people your age have never seen it
And yet in some ways they’ve probably been it!
Well come on then, let’s have the word
I want to be a clever nerd.

Symbiotic’s the word, it means helping each other
Working together, like friend and brother.
An example of this is the buffalo’s cleaner
On head or back, you’ll not see one keener

Than the little Oxpecker who scours his skin
Making really sure that no nasties get in.
The Oxpecker bird has a bill red or yellow
He’s a useful mate and a really good fellow.

He picks off the ticks that bother the buff’
He eats all the insects that make his life rough
And by cleaning his friend he gets a good meal
And both of them reckon that that’s a good deal.

Without the bird he’d be covered with ticks
That’s not a good way to get your kicks
So the little Oxpecker performs this service
He does it for free – no need to get nervous

They give to each other, that’s really nice
And there’s never a word said about price.
That’s all for today of the African jungle
My brain’s asleep and I don’t want to bungle

The info I share ‘bout this Natural wonder
And the dear little birds who peck and plunder
So I’ll say goodbye and a snooze I’ll borrow –
I’ll be on the next page as soon as tomorrow.

*m = metres

Photo from Pexels by Harvey Sapir

Blabbermouth by Jenny Erlanger

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My parents bought a parrot
and I taught it how to speak.
I wish I’d also taught it
when to shut its noisy beak.

It told my little brother
I considered him a sook
and then informed my sister
that I’d scribbled on her book.

I thought it might have finished
but it still had more to say.
It told my dad I hadn’t
done the homework for the day.

It told my mum her perfume
had a most peculiar smell
then added that her hairstyle
didn’t suit her very well.

Our parrot’s clearly clever
and it’s been a breeze to teach.
It’s made amazing progress
since it’s learnt the art of speech.

But now I have a problem
that’s undoubtedly occurred
because of my confessions
to this brash, outspoken bird.

Photo from Pexels by Caio

The Story of Melvyn McFigg by James Aitchison

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Mervyn McFigg

lost his wig, 

it blew off in the breeze.

It came to rest

in a bird’s nest,

in the highest of high gum trees.

Mervyn McFigg,

to retrieve his wig,

climbed up that mighty tree.

But at the top,

a bald bird said, “Stop!

Your wig now belongs to me!”

Pigeon by Michael Buckingham Gray

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after lunch

in the lull of mid-afternoon

you start cooing…

and

lure me

from the sunlight

into the shadows

into the shadows

of sleep

Share and Share Alike by James Aitchison

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There’s plenty here for everyone

so peck away in peace,

no need to squawk and squabble,

all fighting has to cease!

There’s lots of seed for any bird

who flies in day or night;

so use your beak to pick up food

and not to pick a fight.

Two Pink Galahs by Jeanie Axton

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Two old pink galahs

up high in a gumtree

looked down at recess

to see what they could see.

Two junior school boys

glanced up and said “Gidday”

then the two old galahs 

spread their wings and flew away.

Be It On Your Head by James Aitchison

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What’s that bird 

doing on my head?

Why doesn’t it

fly away instead?

It’s not fair

being a statue,

because I know

what birds like to do!

James’ poem was inspired by the image below which was taken in Venice

Wagtails 1 2 3 by Graham Seal

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One willie wagtail sang a sweet song,

he was joined by another 

before very long.

Two willie wagtails built a snug nest

with feathers and flowers 

and leaves softly pressed.

Three willie wagtails perched in a tree,

mummy and daddy 

and baby makes three.

Photo by Centennial Parklands