There are a lot of people who spend their life trying to decide what makes things tick. Usually they are right; sometimes they are wrong. Ornithologists have determined that flamingos must be together in huge groups. Excuse me, what about evolution? Why can’t we develop to having our own little hut, with a yard and play area for the chicks? As a flamingo, I feel qualified to speak. Following is my logic.
Anna is a dear old thing, but please, give me a break.
She spends half the day spouting on flavor of snake.
Bobbi has the cutest chick, as anyone can see,
But others have chicks just as cute, including me.
Carolyn is just way too clever, her skills at crafts amaze
all the others, who visit her, with praise.
Dawn, of course, takes grains of corn, to turn into a meal,
Others drop by, from different flocks. Her food is worth a steal.
Eric is really not quite sure why sometimes we birds fight,
He spends his day working hard, sometimes till late at night.
Farrah just preens herself in the sun,
She thinks she is the golden one,
George is convinced he should lead us all,
but I personally think he is due for a fall.
Heather, the nurturer, keeps us all sane:
Too many birds for one little plain.
Isabel laughs at the way that I feel.
She doesn’t know that this chance is real.
Jan volunteered to present our appeal
To those who would listen, over a meal.
Kerry is strutting about as I speak,
His opinion is my ideas are weak.
Lee is a rebel. He understands
the value of having our own bit of land.
A square yard of my own, that’s all I ask.
This shouldn’t be such a difficult task.
Flamingos have become civilized, here at the zoo,
and we want to live just like you do.