The Last Word On Nothing

I don’t know why this came out in “verse,” but here it is. I’m no poet, but I had fun regardless. And if you read it right, it really does scan!

Upon my feeder yesterday
A cowbird male did land,
Brown-headed with his body coal
At first glance not too grand.

But then I took the time to learn
The story of his kind,
I peered more closely, read some facts
That truly changed my mind.

Named for chasing cattle herds
To nab bugs in their wake,
They thrive in meadows, grass, and fields
‘cross these United States.

A male’s song’s like a water drop
A female’s more a chatter,
Both voices seem to do the job
When something is the matter.

It seems that in this species
Evolution had her druthers:
The mama doesn’t build a nest
‘stead lays her eggs in others’.

This obligate brood parasite
Her bets she sure does hedge,
Lets others spend their energy
to get her chicks to fledge.

Sounds rude perhaps, but gotta like
this winning strategy,
of passing on one’s DNA
in total secrecy.

Its name suggests a dullish bird
With colors bland as grime,
Females, true, aren’t vibrant birds
But males are sublime.

As sunshine hits one's feathers and
The light upon them plays,
They burst with plums and glossy blues
As if they’re dipped in glaze.

His head's a little nugget
as of creamy choc-o-late,
He holds himself with confidence
that draws him mates, I'll bet.

Mine looked at me, then looked away
That seemed to be the trend,
But when finally he held my gaze
I felt I'd made a friend.

I’ve come to love these common birds
I’m hit by Cupid’s arrow!
What's next to get a second chance?
That boring little sparrow.
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Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash