Island Birds

By Chelsea Adams

Find out more about Chelsea here!

​White crests
Screaming calls
Wild animals
Of the great outdoors.
Long beaks or white wings
Sorting through rubbish
Or eating seeds in a field.
 
Around the only lake
I lounge,
On a picnic rug
I hear a sound
Those bin juice drinking birds
I hear
Screech and chirp
On a twiggy island
Not too far from here.

In a forest of gum trees
Or crossing red desert plains,
Multicoloured rainbows
As the fly in perfect formations
Of flapping wings,
Or run across the ground
At high speeds.
 
With their white bodies
And long, picnic wrecking beaks
They sit and wait to entreat
Upon a lovely family outing
Where they are cooking sausages
And counting;
 
Counting the ibis
Before the kids
Run and yell, shooing them,
Into the breeze
Back to the island
That wreaks of such an Australian bird,
Cause they really are:
Just bin juice drinking birds.
 
All unique and interesting,
And some quite strange
All from the largest island
On the oceanic plane.