Quotes About Bird

the Pacific Wren feeds on insects and spiders, which are especially good sources of energy. To sing, it takes a deep breath --where does it put all that air? - and then lets loose for up to ten seconds without pausing...And this song is loud. The wrens put out the most volume per ounce of any bird that I know, with the Carolina Wren the loudest of them all.

Gould's sunbird landed on the crown of a nearby hemlock. In the brilliant mountain light, its burgundy mantle and back set off its bright yellow rump and belly, highlighted by a long blue tail. The Buddhists say that attachment to beauty is one of the false perceptions humans hold. We, however, suspended Mincha's Buddhist instruction at such moments and wallowed in our attachment. Over

Nor did this stupid bird," crowed Cloudpaw, flicking his tail smugly.

feel like a bird!" he cried. The words were hardly out of his mouth before he felt his paws slipping. For a heart-stopping moment he thought the wind would bowl him over to plummet down to the rocks below. The landscape whirled sickeningly around him. Then teeth fastened in his scruff and yanked him back to safety. He looked up to see Crowfeather. "Thanks," he gasped. "Just remember you're not a bird," the WindClan cat growled.

So into the woods we went—it was surprisingly noisy. Especially one loud bird whose chirping sounded far too cheerful for the middle of the night.

Bird speech at the circle of willis results in migrant noises or 'puddles' that amass near the head of the pedestrian, rallying it toward a form of disruption within the flowing crowd.

The seagull doesn't mean anything," I said. "It's just a seagull. It's there for beach ambience.

A single bird flew by at eye level, then shot straight up to the treetops. A grasshopper landed suddenly on my wrist. Creepy magic.

A field of scarlet with nine hanged men in black and six yellow daggers in the upper left and lower right quadrants, respectively, while the upper right quandrant featured a shattered skull and the lower left boasted a bird astride a severed head. It might have been a raven. Or an eagle.

He couldn't tell that this was one of those occasions a man never forgets: a small cicatrice had been made on the memory, a wound that would ache whenever certain things combined - the taste of gin at mid-day, the smell of flowers under a balcony, the clang of corrugated iron, an ugly bird flopping from perch to perch.

In software systems it is often the early bird that makes the worm.

I don't see things from a worm's perspective but a bird's perspective. I smile at problems.

Spotting a rare bird is never worth the bite of a cur. Once bitten by a German shepherd, I knew that I preferred cats, even if they are bird-killers. Life is long enough for more than one chance at a rare bird.

bottom half of the page had descended into a doodle of a tiny man giving the middle finger to a giant, angry eagle with razor-sharp talons. Beneath it, the caption: To Mock a Killing Bird. Sadly, this was the best idea I'd had in weeks.

Here is a nature-picture (attributed to Oisin) as vivid as ancient: "A tale for you: oxen lowing: winter snowing: summer passed away: wind from the north, high and cold: low the sun and short his course: wildly tossing the wave of the sea. The fern burns deep red. Men wrap themselves closely: the wild goose raises her wonted cry: cold seizes the wing of the bird: 'tis the season of ice: sad my tale.

Early bird Oh, if you're a bird, be an early bird And catch the worm for your breakfast plate. If you're a bird, be an early bird— But if you're a worm, sleep late.

The bird of time has but a little way To flutter - and the bird is on the wing.

There are things you can't reach. But You can reach out to them, and all day long. The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of god. And it can keep you busy as anything else, and happier. I look; morning to night I am never done with looking. Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around As though with your arms open.

He was, of course, a piece of the sky. His eyes said so. This is not a face; this is the other part of knowing something, when there is no proof, but neither is there any way toward disbelief. Imagine lifting the lid from a jar and finding it filled not with darkness but with light. Bird was like that. Startling, elegant, alive.

The honey guide leads a Masai tribesperson to a beehive. The bird waits for him or her to scatter the bees and take the honey. Then the bird feasts on the honeycomb.

This bird is called a honey guide. It's both a friend and a helper to the Masai (muh-SI) people, an African tribe known for their fierce fighting skills and bravery.

My interpreter Sayuri is folding a piece of notebook paper. She is at step 21, where the crane's body is inflated. The directions show a tiny puff besides an arrow pointing at the bird. It makes sense if you already know what to do. Otherwise, it's wonderfully surreal: Put a cloud inside a bird.

She called, Au ror a! in a penetrating voice that could cause a small bird to fall dead out of the sky.

Unsheltered, I live in daylight. And like the wandering bird I rest in thee.