ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

The Ballad of Bianca

My humble quarter acre block
brings me joy around the clock.
With no green thumb on either hand,
evolved to be – was never planned.

I feed the birds, suburban wild,
each one squabbling like a child.
A screech, a squark, it has began.
The pecking order fought and won.

And then one day a dove came ‘round
for seed I’d scattered on the ground.
Then every day and twice a day
she’d peck the seed and then she’d stay.

I’d chat with her, she’d coo at me
then off she'd fly o’re fence and tree.
Then with time she slowly grew
to trust me as I’d coaxed her to.

Corellas, lorries, cockatoo,
rosellas, ring necks, kookies too –
none of them that came to play
would bring such joy into my day,

as to see that little dove
come gliding in from up above.
A homing bird without a home,
escaped a wedding? Free to roam.

Because she seemed so very tame,
I chanced upon the perfect name.
Bianca means both fair and white
and so of course her name was right.

One day instead of seed I found
snow white feathers strewn around.
With tear filled eyes I feared the worst
and thought my heavy heart would burst.

Until I turned and standing there
was Pete who held with tender care...
The little dove whose shallow breath
barely moved her ravaged chest.

No feathers left to form a tail,
sweet little bird so scared and frail.
The rescue centre said that we –
due to extensive injury,
with a small amount of healing balm,
take her home and keep her warm.

Necrosis set upon her chest.
The best thing was for her to rest.
Because she knew my voice, I think,
she calmed and took a little drink.

She settled in, began to coo
and in time her feathers grew.
No more to fly from tree to tree
she’s found a loving home with me.

Our little bird so small and white,
defying death with her might.
Singing thanks with every coo
as I think we all should do.

Be grateful for the little things...
the sun, the warmth that springtime brings.

Ah, Wendy, this is really delightful and even brought a tear to my eye....and yes, those two important lines at the end do remind us to be grateful every day for the little things. Watching the birds is always such a pleasure - my parents used to do this all the time, as did a dear old friend of mine who used to write about her "feathered mafia" in Brisbane! ...This really is such a touching story - I love it!

A Lovely touching story Wendy and beautifully told.
We live in fear for the many birds that visit us,
our Neiborhood seems to be alive with cats.
Then very now and again that sad little pile of feathers.

Terry

Animals always know the ones who love them - I am thinking there is an element of truth to your poem and love it. I too once had a white wild dove befriend me for a while - I named him Lovey Dovey and then he disappeared, hopefully he had found a lady friend.

We are always blessed when wild animals give us their trust - it is a gift to treasure and I can see from your words you do exactly that. I loved reading this.

Thank you all. Bianca lives with 2 other rescues. A very old Cockateil and a young Conure. We love our feathery family.

How lovely, Wendy!

Your Bianca must be very treasured. We too have feathered friends who visit our garden and have become very tame. We love them.

Cheers
Shelley