Mike Berrimen

Of all the birds that I hold dear

The Butcher Bird calls when he is near

His woodnote pierces our early dawn

To this honeyed sound, I am drawn.


His songs and warbles ,these calls we dote

Fixing our mind on one long note

He chatters and warbles an occasional baulk

His  tunes unique, but cannot talk.


Our pieball friends sit on our rail

Of plated titbits they do avail

I toss small morsels in the air

They quickly respond from anywhere.


These patched birds all seen so tame

But savagery is their claim to fame

A downturned beak a surely sign

This hunter is, no bird benign.


Insects and spiders a common diet

Skilful 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 Birds tune does fill the sky.


I love these hunters and pieball clowns

Rich on life ,so good on sounds

I have taped their music for friends overseas

Their unique melody a gift to please.


Runner's Up

Carolyn Doyle

Grey-crowned Babblers

I'd like to come back as a gabbler,

in the form of a Grey-crowned Babbler,

I have three in my yard,

and it's not very hard, 

to be charmed by their vernacular.


To my joy they are often seen bouncing,

around my garden a pouncing,

scratching the soil,

for insects they toil,

or a spider that may cop a trouncing!


They constantly giggle and natter,

like the rest of the world doesn't matter,

they do make me grin

and my heart they do win,

every time that I hear their sweet chatter!


Sue Laing

The Blue 'Boy Wonder'

He struts and flits and tweets and flirts…that Sheik, the Blue ‘Boy Wonder’

They follow and furrow and burrow and dig…the Harem, serving under.


His depth of blues is sheer delight, his body all a-toned

Their drab browns are his power, his surety they’re “owned”.


And who can blame the ladies, for their mini peacock’s charm

Is sure unmatched in nature; his plumage ne’er outdone.


So when the twitter’s settled down, at sunset, in the bush

Respect the revel that’s to come, when all around is hushed.


For he’s a job to do, for sure - a challenge for a tot

He’s got to keep ‘em happy, that brown bevy, that whole lot!


We spare a thought each night for his athletic interventions

And greet him in the morn with nowt but curious intentions


To check his brood and how they’ve fared and maybe count the cost

Oh no, it’s as we sometimes fear - another one’s gone lost!!


They come…they go: they‘re “there”, these little chappies

Thank God they are for if they weren’t we wouldn’t be so happy.


Amy Akers
Brown Thornbills

Brown thornbills are my favourite bird.

They easily win hands down.

They always provide us with a smile

When we’d previously had a frown.


They come in twos and flit about

Amongst our scrubby plants.

Our paperbark and hibiscus

Provide a venue for their dance.


At first we only heard them;

Their happy song a real delight.

And then we later spotted them

In and out of the dappled light.


They urged us to plant more bushy shrubs

To provide more habitat.

So that we can see more of them

And hear their happy chat.


We really love our “thornies”.

Not just an LBJ.

Please keep an eye out for them;

They could brighten up your day.

 and @UrbanBirdsOz  @birdsinbackyards
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