by Ronald W. Hull
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Image Courtesy Jody Ewing
This is part of a recurring theme...birds are living dinosaurs...
Once, in my youth, I visited a cage housing a young Great Horned Owl my friend had taken from the nest. A pole ran through the cage for a perch. Outside, below the perch was a pile of perhaps, fifty headless songbirds the mother owl had brought at night to feed her young through a hole my friend provided. The birds on the ground were the ones she dropped.
As the sun wanes in the evening sky,
birds flock home like days gone by.
Home to roost and home to nest,
to the place they've chosen best.
To keep their babies warm and well,
protect them from the pending hell.
That comes in the night.
A lightning flash is the first sign,
the storm is building fast.
Will the nest be strong enough,
to hold against the wild wind's blast?
Will the hail, hard and fast,
strip the tree leaf from limb?
And beat her senseless in the nest,
Trying to protect her young?
Or will the possum stick its pink nose in,
teeth bared, until she flies?
Taking eggs where the dinosaur lies.
Or the hand of the raccoon touches her side,
startled, she flies out somewhere to hide.
Only to return to an empty nest.
Sometimes, in the wee hours close to dawn,
comes the whisper of wings with talons on.
In the owl's grasp she struggles in vain,
beheaded in flight, her blood flows like rain.
If the eggs hatch at all, her chicks will die.
Such is the peril for the freedom to fly.
Such is the terror of the ancient night sky.
Copyright 2006 © Ronald W. Hull
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|Reviewed by Michael Wells
|Gwen put it right, Life and death, two sides of the same coin,
Captivating poem, Ron
God bless - Mich
|Reviewed by Connie Hinnen Cook
|This is a hard truth, but well written.|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Yes, Ron; nature does seem harsh at times. Your poem is stark and real. Thank you for sharing it. Love and peace to you,
|Reviewed by Gwen Dickerson
|Life and death, two sides of the same coin, excellently exemplified in this splendid poem, "Night Terror."|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|"nature is a giant restaurant" ...
excellent imagery and theme ...
|Reviewed by Ch'erie de Perrot
|Oft times I've had to bury the remains of such night terrors! Not a nice task, by any means of the imagination, but neccessary.
You have captured the cycle of life, with eloquent and truthful prose.
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Ron you expose us to the truth of wildlife that we try not ot think about. However, it is very well done and I agree with Sherry!Excellent work!
|Reviewed by Sherry Heim
|I never like to think of the preditor instincts that all in the wild creatures and I suppose we humans, too, have. I lost a favorite cat once to an owl. It swooped down onto my patio one night where my little Allie Cat was sleeping and took him away. I cried for months as I had raised that sweet kitty since he was about 2-1/2 weeks old when his feral mamma died; we were as close as two living things could possibly be...life goes on, and I guess his life was taken in a natural way, not like being stricken by a car or poisoned by a nasty cat-hating neighbor. This poem is vivid and graphic, albeit a bit depressing but there is an order to everything on this planet, even the killings of baby robins.
|Reviewed by Rhonda Galizia
|This is an incredible work, Mr. Hull! The power of its reality strikes its own terror, line by line. I was "there"...Congratulations! blessings ~ rhonda|
|Reviewed by Peter Paton
It's survival of the fittest and craftiest in the jungle...
Superb nature write
|Reviewed by L. Figgins
|"Such is the peril for the freedom to fly..." Wisdom in this write of birds and prey and the struggle for survival. Most birds would abandon their young if touched by human hands and this is startling to me. Must be because of the great odds. Fine poem. Thank you for sharing this, Ron...
|Reviewed by Susan de Vegter
|Beautiful and brutal at the same time. Classic nature tale too. I confiscated a box two boys had at school one day. In it were bird heads...chikadee, cardinal, bluebird etc. They'd killed them with a beebee gun. I wondered if Jeffru Daumer started out that way. Their grandfather shrugged and merely said that the boys were growing up.I was livid and had them sent home.