More Notes of an Unnaturalist

THE wood duck builds her sheltered nest
Within a hollow tree above
The water she is thinking of
When summer, like the egg, is mute.
But after all, the water’s best:
Her day-old ducklings jump the nest
As success peace forsakes the dove.
And maybe it is mother love,
Or maybe they are not distressed,
Or maybe she is just astute
Since maybe it requires a shove
To teach the young idea to chute.

THE praying mantis doesn’t pray:
He simply likes to pose that way.
The sect which he’s an insect in
Leads with its left and not the chin,

LET US ponder
The condor:
Biggest thing
On the wing —
A subject not cultural
But vultural.
Any on view
In the U.S.?

A few.
Down in the Andes —
Or up?

Yep. Some dandies,
But high. Where there’s Dander
I Und Blitzen, there’s condor:
Bald head and bare neck.
There he is!

I no not recommend the grub
The young of what? Aye, there’s the rub!
The fox and bear, they have a cub;
Wings on the loose produce a grub.

I BOUGHT a little Holstein calf:
It wasn’t Holstein but by half.
And half a Holstein, bull or cow,
I’d call a Halfstein anyhow.