Quotes About Birds

There's a beauty in birds on the wing, That stirs the heart and makes earthbound creatures Long for flight, but the larks above the battlefield Are silenced by the sounds of war. I have watched birds out at sea, Catching the wind, And longed to follow them, To some safe place far from here.

Tomorrow the birds will sing. Be brave. Face life.

Either birds or bats flapped up and into the night as the gates rolled back into position. My money was on bats. Little blingy ones, carrying tiny Louis Vuitton clutches.

It had been so silent in the wake of that commotion, a kind of potent silence that seemed to contain everything. The songs of the birds and the creak of the trees. The dying snow and the unseen gurgling water. The glimmering sun. The certain sky. The gun that didn't have a bullet in its chamber. And the mother. Always the mother. The one who would never come to me.

Every summer I'd spend a couple of months on the farm in Yale walking the dirt road that led to the highway, picking wild raspberries along the way. Often I'd walk out into the watermelons, pick one up over my head, and let it fall so that it split wide open. Then I'd eat the sweet heart out of it and leave the rest to the birds.

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky; Hundreds of shells on the shore together; Hundreds of birds that go singing by; Hundreds of bees in the sunny weather. Hundreds of dew-drops to greet the dawn; Hundreds of lambs in the purple clover; Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn; But only one mother the wide world over!

Muse, bid the morne awake; Sad winter now declines: Each bird doth choose a mate, This day's Saint Valentines...

Genetic determination and social learning are, however, fundamentally different processes. Tellingly, the cultural songs of the oscine birds are generally more complex, sometimes much more so, and more diverse than the genetically driven nonoscine calls.

It soon became clear that elements of the songs of many birds are socially learned, and social learning seemed the most plausible explanation for the spread of a technique by which blue tits opened the tops of British milk bottles.123 Birds seemed to have culture.

The bees build in the crevices Of loosening masonry, and there The mother birds bring grubs and flies. My wall is loosening; honey-bees, Come build in the empty house of the stare.

Does your pet love you? Of course your pet loves you. (Qualifier: your pet can love you if it's a mammal or one of a few clades of birds, like a parrot. If your pet is a gecko or a python or a goldfish, your pet is probably incapable of love.) Love develops for every evolutionary pairing that requires devotion. We love our pets, and our pets love us. Dogs, in particular, are love generators who hang out with you and help you know that you're not alone. Dog is love, unmoored.

La ansiedad, pensó, era como una bandada de pájaros posados en un cable telefónico. Cuando se acercaba gente echaban a volar y cuando la gente se alejaba volvían dando saltitos

At night in bed, they talked. He, of the bees. She of the birds. Never of the birds and bees.

And heard the green birds singing/ from the other side of silence

From bush and hedge and tree Joy, unrestrained and free, Breaks forth in melody, Twitter and chirp and song.

Lo--a black line of birds in wavering thread Bore him the greetings of the deathless dead!

Me and my merry band of mutant bird kids.

Hens embarrass me; owls disturb me; if I am with an eagle I always pretend that I am not with an eagle; and so on down to swallows at twilight who scare the hell out of me. But pigeons have absolutely no effect on me.

Hens embarrass me; owls disturb me; if I am with an eagle I always pretend that I am not with an eagle...

During the various lockdown periods around the world, when there was less traffic and many industries were halted, fossil fuel emissions decreased significantly. Some people from the big cities had the luxury, perhaps for the first time, of breathing clear air and seeing the stars shine brightly in the night sky. Many people shared their delight in being able to hear the song of birds as the noise level decreased.

A flock of cardinals in scarlet frocks with tall white miters on their heads came trailing behind him.

I am not into the unrealistic realm of magic realism where birds talk.

My mother was known as the 'bird lady' of the neighborhood. Anything injured, or any unusual creature somebody found, they would always come to our doorstep.

I still derive immense pleasure from remembering how many hod-carrying brickies were encouraged to put on lurex tights and mince up and down the high street, having been assured by know-it-alls like me that a smidgen of blusher really attracted the birds.