One treepie squeaked its opinion
In reply , far off , another minion
Squeaked right back , instantly
The mynah tut tutted petulantly
Babblers fought a war of words
In the world of the birds
I thought how bad could it get
Then I saw them rolling in the dirt
Next moment with avian fickleness
they had skewered themselves in tight lines
On a single branch , for shared body heat
fighting the winter chill , with collective grit
The mynah tut tutted again , marching upright
Looking out for food , grain and mite(s)
No one can wing it like the little swift
when darkness falls , like winged gifts
They fly , swing , sway , dip and lift
A real treat for the eyes , shaped T
The brain fever bird is really feverish
calls of the koel , has really reached a pitch
The dove perches
on a tree and belches
it has lots to say
throughout the day
So does the barbet
it keeps up the beat
But anytime of the day , that one sound
which you hear , constant and profound
Is the hammering constant
of coppersmith barbet
never missing the sharp beat
like the forests' beating heart
When one tires and quietens
the other pipes up and hearkens
Hark now
the crow
Warning all and sundry
silencing the gentry
A little while later
Bulbul picks up the matter
All is well brothers , it coos
Replied by Golden orioles
Oh Yes ! We know that bros
In a flash of black and gold
a short tale is told
Of Brilliance
Forbearance
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