Spite is a thing with feathers
With jealously guarded nests
Squabbles that break out at feeders
Territorial songs without rest

Aggressive displays for the neighbors
Even if they’ve done nothing to chide
Greedy tearing apart of their labors
For the eggs and the young ones inside

Nature is no Disney movie
When everyone’s out for a meal
Even when the others are flighty
You beg and you borrow and steal

Flocks are a last resort only
Tree branches with room for just one
It may seem like you are quite lonely
But you’ll have more kids when you’re done

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