The Woodpeckers Tale

 If I were a woodpecker and thumped on dead trees

I'd still want more, than bugs and bees

For in cold of winter months each and every year

It's hard to get your fill, leastways that's what I hear.

So when this friendly human guy puts out his fruits and nuts

Who am I to shy away from the goodies that he puts

'Specially when he hangs those suet blocks and balls

You could certainly say  "0 I have heard your calls."

For certain as they're hanging there, gonna be a savory bit

With peanuts, corn and oats, 'twill be a tasty hit

As long as there's a peanut in the mix of it all

Whether  roasted, whole or ground, it don't matter none a'tall

I'll take my fill and leave a few for the songbirds, if you will

For they like it too, and don't eat so much, until they get their fill

I'll grant them all their seeds and all other kinds of such

Just leave a worm or two for me, and I won't eat too much

Most of us have red, somewhere about our head

Some with solid black or tan even yellow, it is said

But when black, white and checkered, as our feathers often are

You can always pick us out, whether close to you or far

The Chickadee's Prayer

 The Chickadee's Prayer

"Lord thank you for these worms I eat

And all those seeds, they're mighty sweet

I'm awfully small, I don't eat much

I'm a feather-weight and soft to touch,

Thanks, mostly for those human kind

Who keep 'em full for us to find"

Amen

Overheard on the deck in the backyard.

Lady Towhee's Tale

Now you may think we're a random touch

With patches bold and varied such 

Folks seldom miss whose Jill or Jack

As I am brown where he is black

We're patched with spots of different stains

Like western ponys on the plains

Some birds have reds and others blues,

We're simply cast from different hues

Orange and golds and black or brown

Bits of gray and white are found

What some may see as serendipity

Is an artful choice of providentiality

A sweeter sound you'll never hear

Than when I call for my sweet dear

It starts with a whistle and ends with chatter

Sometimes it means that something's the matter

We're a quiet sort that scurries and scats

We don't hang around to cause any spats.

Our nest is always near the ground

Ne're in a tree will it be found

We forage and search throughout your yard

We find much to eat, it isn't hard

Some think we're dressed to the hilt   

While others see but a patch-work quilt