There's an eerie feel to the air
A sign of impending storm
All is quieter, still,
Until the birds' row begin to form
The bird's row on the garden fence
Wanting their turn to feed
Of those seeds, which magically appear.
The poet's bi-weekly good deed
Species of all types come by
Some fight to get a share
Brown-headed cowbird, doves
Cardinals, house finches eat the fare.
One Dove dives behind the fence post
Hidden away from his mate.
She chases him out into view
Seems little food his fate.
Then all is still again out there.
As I look through a dirty pane,
I wonder how I'll survive
When life is so uncertain again.
Then a brown thrasher flies in
He is eating from my seed.
I think how lovely he is
I'm thankful I can give him feed
Categories:
cowbird, age, health, nature,
Form: Rhyme
The group of brown headed cowbirds I hope is migratory
I really don't want them staying in my yard
They are parasitic and can be devastating for other species
As they are lazy or sorry or ill mannered or whatever term is correct
They lay their eggs in another bird's nest
That mom or the two parents are not any wiser
And they feed and look after those eggs
Just as though they were their own
However, the cowbird is usually larger
And starve their other nest mates
Cruel, uncaring might be a better word
For the parents of those little offsprings
I know they don't think ahead
Because if they did they might figure it out
If their eggs are hatched, then their chicks fed
The other bird population gradually dies out
Then what???
They might have to go to work....
Then that could be the end of the birds upon this earth
Categories:
cowbird, bird,
Form: Free verse
On the twelve days of Christmas, West Texas gave to me
twelve tarantulas creepin’,
eleven javelinas diggin’,
ten jack rabbits jumpin’,
nine skunks a stinkin’,
eight mantis prayin’,
seven snakes swimmin’,
six mountain lions,
five sunny days,
four mockingbirds,
three hoary bats,
two horned toads,
and a cowbird in a mesquite tree.
On the twelve days of Christmas, West Texas gave to me
twelve oxeye creepin’,
eleven acanthus flamin’,
ten willows twistin’,
nine cholla jumpin’,
eight tumbleweeds rollin’,
seven shin diggers stickin’,
six purple thistles,
five sunny days,
four mountain laurels,
three ruby muhly,
two hawthorn,
and mistletoe in an elm tree.
Categories:
cowbird, animal, bird, christmas, environment,
Form: Lyric
I told that guy in the trilby hat
that when we create something in our mind
and push it out into the universe willing it to manifest,
it will, in some way, manifest,
though maybe not in the way we expected.
It may appear in the small print of creation
perhaps as a footnote or an addendum.
Trilby hat man gawps at me
as if I'd gone raving mad.
I blithely continue:
“if a cowbird comes to nest in your garden
then goats or cattle will visit your cabbage patch.
not now maybe, maybe never,
but the possibility hovers.”
I notice his trilby is trembling now,
he’s backing away from me
spluttering in outraged disbelief.
As I watch him depart, I have a vision:
The trilby catching fire while on his head;
naturally this will not do.
I imagine a rain cloud drenching him
then LO
It rained.
Categories:
cowbird, poetry,
Form: Free verse
There is a bird in nature called the Cowbird.
It doesn't build a nest or rear its young.
Whether it lost the ability to or never knew how doesn't matter.
It doesn't rear its young or build nests.
It lays its egg in a songbird's nest.
It lets that host bird forage for the food that nurtures its chick.
While it watches hidden from view, ready to destroy its victim's chick should that host fail to submit.
It sees its young mature as the victim's young wither.
Willing to steal the efforts of the host to provide for the continuation of its way of life.
Destroying the bloodline of one species to promote the lack of action in another.
Oblivious of the fact that in its madness it too will die.
Oblivious to its folly.
Written 2021.06.30
Categories:
cowbird, bird, conflict, immigration,
Form: Prose
brown headed cowbird
female busy laying eggs...
bluebirds reject nest
Fact:
Brown Headed Cowbird
lays her eggs in other
birds' nest and lets
the other birds feed her
young...Some birds know
that it is not their egg
and they will abandon
the nest or roll the egg
out..Some birds don't
figure it out and raise
their young..The Cowbird
doesn't have to build
the nest or feed the young.
She stays busy laying eggs
summer..
Categories:
cowbird, nature,
Form: Haiku
In chaos the monster would rest,
Like a cowbird in its own nest,
For his grim voice he has lost,
This and all fore a huge cost.
A never-ending road to loss,
And yet it’s at a stone’s toss.
But who silenced the monster?
Who would suppress this creature?
Was it you? Could it been me?
Or is guilty all? Humanity?
Maybe we will never know,
Maybe there we can not go.
The monster was silent and broken,
He knew the countdown was set for ten
Categories:
cowbird, philosophy,
Form: Rhyme