A Kingbird on the Throne

A Kingbird on the Throne


On the weather vane, it’s running down,
Splotches white splat on the ground
  for a Kingbird makes his presence known,
Wherever he has chosen his throne

A dapper fellow, the Eastern King,
In a shiny blue coat he tucks his wings in,
  no Bigger than a jay, yet tall and lean,
His front is linen white, he keeps his shirts clean

Good birding is the Eastern Kingbird,
Most often he’s on a perch near water, from where
  he Sallies out, taking insects on the wing,

Then returns to his perch, again to do the same thing

He is a bird of exceptional will,
I’ve seen crows and blue jays mob to run off raptors,
  yet the Kingbird flies singly at hawks,
Nipping tail quills, expelling banshee squawks

He is also a Casanova of exceptional skill,
While he’s flirting with his mate, when in courting often will
  sing a Squeaky serenade from his tree redoubt,
And when she takes a wing, he chases her about

I’ve not known Kingbirds to hunt much in yards,
While not un-common, it appears un-royal
  to see Him poach our insect game,
Thus (his decree), our yard’s annexed in his domain

For whatever he sees, it is his,
And wherever he goes, his it is,
  as we Know because he’s claimed and marked it
With royal white globs of great Kingbird shit