To bird or not to bird

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.

Pied Triller

Crested Myna