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Feathered Felons
You come in such humongous flocks
to lunch at my well stocked seed box.
You stay until each grain is gone,
call in the troops and journey on.
Why are you such a greedy fellow,
black-bird with wings of red or yellow?
Your mate in her more subdued hue
is too good for the likes of you.
Her sweet demeanor doesn't scare
the smaller feathereds feeding there,
but you chase all except your own
with beat of wing and shriek of tone.
I try to save a little feed
for the little fellows more in need;
the wren, the finch, the chickadee
who thought they could depend on me
to feed them through the winter's cold.
They can't compete with one so bold.
When you have gone, I hurry out
to scatter some more seed about,
but sure as fate from the thin air
you and voracious friends are there
to gobble each nutritious bite
and put the little ones to flight.
Do you think, because of bright adorn
that you deserve all of the corn?
I know when the farmer plants his seed
you'll find a better place to feed.
The nuthatch and the sweet wren-tit
can then sing songs and dine a bit.
By: Joyce 2007
Copyright ©
Joyce Johnson
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