My Favourite Bird Poem by Mike Berriman

Of all the birds that I hold dear
Our butcher bird calls when he is near
His woodnote pierces our early dawn
To this honeyed sound I am drawn.

His songs and warbles, on these calls we dote
Our full attention on one long note
He chatters and chirps an occasional baulk
His melody unique, and cannot talk.


Our piebald friend sits on out rail
Of plated tidbits they do avail
I toss small morsels in the air
They quickly respond from anywhere.

These patched birds all seem so tame
But savagery is their claim to fame
The downturned beak a surely sign
This hunter is no bird benign.

Insects and spiders a common diet
Skillful hunters, yet they are quiet
Until they burst into joyful play
And herald our world at start of day.

Our Maggies and Rosellas have basic calls
With multiple notes our friend enthralls
Kookaburras laugh, one ranging cry
Our Butcher bird tune does load the sky.

I love these hunters and piebald clowns
Rich on life, so good on sounds
I have taped their music for friends overseas
Their unique melody a gift to please.

MB 2016