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Fly Birdie Fly: An Ode to My Ornithology Class

Oh, chickadee with that cute black cap of yours, won’t you tell me where I can find one of those in stores

Walking out of class, a few leaves begin to move

I glance up by Roger Bacon, and see a house sparrow in a building groove

You never think about these small, winged-creatures and how brilliant they are until you’ve got a pair of binoculars to spot them from afar

The game is simple, stay quiet and wait for a tweet

No, I’m not talking about the ones on our phones, I’m talking about the ones with the zygodactyl feet

You never know the real danger of birding until you get behind the wheel of a car

First thing you know, a majestic eagle swoops to the left and the next you’ve collided with a bar

Now, fellow-birders, listen close, robins and nuthatches and blue jays are cute and all, but you’re no expert until you can identify them by call

I want to thank my ornithology class for opening my eyes to the world of wings, for I know from this experience will come more sky-high things.

Fly birdie, fly.

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