Our numbers do not look
As a Red Bishop's flock.
We don't Hawk Eagle hover
Over African Savannah.
We will prance no dance
With Flamingo flamboyance.

But our interest is rare
As Bald Ibis on air.
Our response is as quick
As an Alpine Swift flick.
And in details we're clever
Like a fussy nesting Weaver.

And when Natal Nightjars relax
On our weather warm tracks,
And when Guinea Fowls do flap
Their way up to their nap,
Then will my hand bend with the sand
In a place called Flycatcher Land.