To bird or not to bird—that is the question:
Whether tis better to remain in slumber
And enjoy the comfortable coolness of our room
Or take a trip to find birds even in neighboring places
And in finding, photograph them. To bird, to sleep
No more—and by birding to say we end
The lassitude that comes on a bright Saturday morn.
To awaken past the rising of the June sun made it
Impossible to travel the distance where feathered
Creatures thrive in more bucolic conditions.
To bird—perchance at nearby haunts: ay, there’s the rub,
For in that nearby haunt are birds already seen
And thus offer nothing new to excite our
Twitching hearts. Yet a birder’s soul must be
Satisfied even by the most banal of birds. Thus off we went
Under a blistering heat and encountered a thriller
In the form of a triller. Later the black and white
Continued as a pair of mynas appeared
Before my wife’s eyes and mine as well.
To bird or not to bird—the question had been answered.