We would love to have your additions to this listing.
Please send them to devo0028@tc.umn.edu
and they will be evaluated for submission.
Tiny Wings,
I am going to miss you.
How could the death of a little bird,
I did everything I knew,
But instead, I held you as you died.
You never got to try your wings,
Tiny Wings.
Buckaroos
white rump bands flashing
Evangelists
Kansas
Harvesters
Sharp edged in red
-jwo
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
When down in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
There were boxes of cereal strewn everywhere,
There was sugar on the counters, the table, the floor,
In the blink of an eye, they were away in the night,
As Christmas Day dawned, I slipped from my bed,
As I stood in amazement, I heard someone say,
Heavenly Father I ask Thee
This little helpless creature
Grant me wisdom and mercy
Thank you Lord, for this small life
Amen.
The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
I'd sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk; but the great Redtail
There they are
Guilty
How would you like to live in a cage
For One Brief Moment
For One Brief Moment
For One Brief Moment
For One Brief Moment
For One Brief Moment
If you've ever seen a baby
There is in all God's Kingdom
Their little noses twiching
I stuff them in my pocket
So someday all my children
Butterflies in my stomach, I walk outside
I open the door--they climb for the roof.
I take a deep breath, walk in with "the bait."
Almost.
How now? Will they trust the kennel again?
Done, I think, with the hard part
The map sits beside me
Left turn here
I turn away, glad, but saddened.
The feelings come, I taste them
One can never know the way
The power of meeting
I hope I save the saveable
A mere man I am
A man with the power to help the ones in need
Use my hands as a tool
A tool to save the birds and beasts that live upon this land
Last year, six hawks, two Bald Eagles, three
As dawn exposes the bare bones
Travis C. Mills wakes with the sun
The Red-tail spots a meadow mouse
Travic C. Mills finds his cleanest
The hawk fans her tail and rounds
He reaches for his shotgun,
One wing hangs
"Lousy chicken hawks; what good are they?"
Turkey Vultures spread disease,
If only Mr. Mills
Connect--being to being--
Tiny Wings
by Margaret (Peggy) Kirk
The other birds will too.
I looked forward to the day
that you would fly away.
I was preparing to say goodbye...
but not like this.
an "insignificant" sparrow,
pierce my heart so deeply,
and shake me to the marrow?
to feed and comfort you.
I laughed when you fluttered
your Tiny Wings.
If you could have lived by love and will,
Little bird, you'd be here still.
I saw your last breath leave you.
I felt your tiny heart stop, and
you had to feel mine, too.
and here I can't fly either.
I must believe that there has to be,
a different place for you and me.
The time must come when we'll meet again,
and we will soar together, on little,
Three Kansas Hawks
by Jim Olson
astride the wild Kansas wind,
harriers ride low.
Roadside preachers
Atop their pulpit poles
Watch furry congregations turn
To prey.
Tail feathers guide talons into flesh
Sharp edged in red.
Hawk and mouse, one alive - one dead,
Play out nature's plan to mesh
The strong and weak; one now fresh,
Sharp edged in red.
A Christmas Tale
by Peggi Rodgers
Not a creature was stirring, not eagle nor grouse.
The bats they all hung on the mantle in pairs,
The squirrels had the hallways, the `possums the stairs.
The wolves were all snuggling deep down in their beds,
While visions of caribou danced in their heads.
I jumped from my bed to see what was the matter.
I ran to the stairs taking two at a time,
My long winter's robe flowing out from behind.
I leapt over the `possum at the foot of the stairs,
Crashed through the door and tripped on a chair.
A flick of the light and there to behold,
Six young raccoons escaped from the cold.
Three bags of flour, canned peaches and pears.
They'd found every package, cleared every shelf,
To clean up the mess, I'd need more than one elf.
A pile of it grew where I'd opened the door.
The happy invaders, all covered in stuff,
They looked so darned cute it was hard to be gruff.
Their little masked faces were all streaked with white,
The bread was demolished; they'd savored each bite.
They sat on the counters, the table and chairs,
Petite little footprints tracked everywhere.
I stood at the window 'til they were well out of sight.
Then looking around I observed in dismay,
I couldn't face cleaning, I'd wait for the day.
Went down to the kitchen, a feeling of dread.
I flung open the door and there in the light,
The counters were clean, all was put right.
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good day".
A Rehabbers Prayer
by Joan Holland
to guide my hands this day,
To carry the weak, heal the sick
I take home with me today
that depends on me for life
doesn't understand my feelings
as I stand in vigel hours
waiting for some sign of life
as I do right by them today
oh, Lord firgive my lack of knowledge
I do the best I can, I pray
I hold now in my hand,
that You will show him mercy
and allow him to survive.
Hurt Hawks
by Robinson Jeffers
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,
No more to use the sky forever but live with famine
And pain a few days: cat nor coyote
Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without talons.
He stands under the oak-bush and waits
And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.
He is strong and the pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The curs of the day come and torment him
At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,
The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.
The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those
That ask for mercy, not often to the arrogant.
You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;
Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;
Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.
Had nothing left but unable misery
From the bone too shattered for mending,
The wing that trailed under his talons when he moved
We had fed him six weeks, I gave him freedom,
He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking for death,
Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old
Implacable arrogance, I gave him the lead gift in the twilight.
What fell was relaxed,
Owl-downey, soft feminine feathers
But what soared
The fierce rush
The night herons by the flooded river cried fear at its rising
Before it was quite unsheathed from reality.
Raptor Gallery at the Lindsay Museum
by Lillian Vallee
The ones whose eggshells held
The ones who got out of the nest alive
The ones not completely contaminated
The ones that avoided
The cars
The cats
The wires
The walls
The bullets
The BBs
The glass window panes
The one-eyed, one-winged, one-legged, nerve damaged, malnourished,
imprinted, infected, electrocuted, and mutilated
Animals
They sit like a jury of your peers
And the verdict is in:
Quiet Thoughts
by Beverly Armstrong
That was just about ten feet square.
With no toys to play with and nothing to do --
Just you and a bed and a chair?
Oh, sure you'd be fed (the same thing each day)
You'd have water (unless they forgot)
And since you would never be going outside
You wouldn't get cold, or too hot.
But oh, you'd be lonely just sitting alone
With no one to talk to all day.
You'd remember the trees, and the grass and the breeze,
The places where you used to play.
You'd remember your friends, you'd remember the sky,
And games and strawberries and sun,
And you know you could never go skating again
Or go swimming, or ride bikes, or run.
You'd get mad and scream and throw things around,
You'd kick and you'd pound on the wall,
And your owners would scold you,
And say to themselves,
"He isn't a nice pet at all!"
The more you got mad, the less they would like you,
The less they'd remember to care
About if you had water or if you got fed
Or if you were lonely in there.
And then you would know what it's like to be kept
As a pet when you're meant to be free,
And you'd listen when wild things are trying to say
"Please Don't Make A Pet Out Of Me!"
For One Brief Moment
by Joan M. Holland
Baby Cottontails
by Joan M. Holland
that is just too much for words
one that leaves you breathless
as he runs back to the woods
ner an animal that's sweet
then the little baby cottontails
that are now upon my feet
and ears that listen well
as I sing my Irish chanty's
as I walk my woodland hills
the ones that need my help
and tote them home and tend them
then release them when their well
I promise they will see,
all of God's dear creatures
that happen past my way
First Release
by Charlie Kaiser
The portable kennels sit on the patio
Out back to the pen I go.
I look at them
"They know" I think, "that something's up."
They stare at me as I approach;
Is that trepidation in their jeweled black eyes?
Or am I imagining it--seeing only the normal fear of humans
That I've tried so hard to teach them?
Away from this tall spectre that haunts
Their lives, yet brings them food each night.
Placing the kennels inside the pen, doors open, inviting
I start my routine.
Cleaning. The broom slowly sweeping up the memories
Of their last carefree meal.
"Act like nothing's wrong" I think; but then,
"Hah. Animals KNOW."
But try anyway.
The pen clean, It's time.
Apples, actually cut up this time.
First the food dish--"Everything's normal, guys"
Then, the apples, tossed into the kennels.
Will it work?
Why do I doubt? Masked bandits--the epitome of curiosity.
They're in!!
2 in one kennel, 1 in the other--perfect!
Heart pounding, I slam the doors!
Did it work?
Got 2, but 1 escapes.
The others scatter.
Confused, questioning, 2 sets of eyes look out at me.
They feel the cold hand of death on their backs.
"Trust me", I say, "This is good stuff, not bad."
One kennel goes out the door.
Visions of welding gloves and catch-poles fill my head.
I wait
Breathing slowly, trying to clear my mind of all thoughts.
Slowly, the allure of the food tray becomes stronger
Than the fear of death.
Balls of fur shimmer down the walls
"Who will it be? Who's the brave one?" I wonder
The question soon answered, the door slams shut.
I pick up the kennel.
Ooof.
These are not the scrawny babies I brought here
A few short (but long) months ago
Young men and women now
Ready (I hope) to challenge the world outside these chain link walls
Off to the car and down the road we go.
Like a Tarot card predicting their futures
It looks so easy on a map.
Somehow, the reality of the streets, the houses, the stores,
Looms large and forbidding compared to the map.
How about there?
No, too close to the main road.
There?
No, not right.
Will I ever find a place that's good enough for my babies?
Never, says a small voice
I push that one away.
Hmmmm.
Open space, a tree line. Compost piles? Gardens?
The stream just inside the tree line.
Looks good, I think.
Walking with the kennel out into the field
Open the door
Free! Free! I say
But no understanding; fear in the eyes
A few hesitant steps,
The look back at me
"Are you sure about this??"
"You're free! Go be a raccoon" I tell him.
Uncertainty
I look away, then back
A bouncing furball, striped tail bounding toward the creek
Unrecognizable cries from inside the tree line
The Wild beckons
Welcome home, it cries!
All the work, all the love
What will happen now?
I'll never know.
I pray
Watch over my brothers, Great Spirit;
I've done what I could
It's your turn now.
I cry. The pain in my heart weighs me down.
The fear
Did I do enough?
I'll never know.
But I gave them a chance.
I can do no more than that.
Like new foods at a smorgasbord
Flavored by the salt of my tears
Savoring each bite of Pain, Love, Loss, Joy, Fear.
I chew on them slowly, not even wanting the pain to go away.
Someday, I know it'll be "Geez, where do I dump THESE raccoons?"
But tonight
My first release
The feelings flood
And I stand in the deluge.
Rehabbing
anonymous
I feel about them
Their fur
Their scales
Their feathers
Which fly upon the wind
Each creature come my way
Is the power of knowing
They animals - they pray
And release the ones I can
And never to lose touch with
My reason I live upon the land
To this Great Spirit I pray and plead
My voice to speak for those
Who have enriched my life so much - use me as a tool
And never to lose touch with
My Important Rehab Plan...
Toward a Rebirth of Wonder in Two Egg, Florida
by Sandy Beck, Curator of Education, St. Francis Wildlife
Association, Tallahassee, FL
Barred Owls, and one Great Horned Owl
were found shot in Tallahassee.
of winter pasture beside Lake Jackson,
a Red-tailed Hawk scans the fields
from the top of a cypress snag.
in his eyes; a barn door to fix;
firewood to split; a possum to skin.
He reaches for his bag of Red Man.
at five hundred yards
and falls, a feathered projectile
slicing through air, then deep
into skin and muscle.
T-shirt, pulls up his overalls,
unchains the door, stops out
on the front porch, and spits.
her wings. She is busy
concealing her breakfast
from a tree of noisy crows.
raises it to his shoulder
and blows her body
through the tall grasses.
by a single bloody tendon--
the mouse,
still clenched in her talons.
Travis C. Mills believes
chicken hawks get his chickens,
Eagles kill his lambs,
Osprey steal his trout.
and owls--well, they are the devil's
dark sisters. Vermin. All of them.
Vermin.
would go eyeball to eyeball
with a crippled hawk. Just once
look into her lightning eyes,
just once, feel her strange beauty
then ask
"What good is wonder?"
Go Back To Main Menu
devo0028@tc.umn.edu
Ronda DeVold
Last updated Saturday, September 06, 2003 - 6:01:04 PM