Bird Trap on the Étendue Sauvage

 

Bird Trap on the Étendue Sauvage

 

You often catch sight of these green

metal contraptions - seen

where verges are somewhat verdant

or they’ve bagged up flat insurgent

arid blooms of grasses, palms, shrubs

and your birds are grubbing

amongst litter and plastic scuttered thinning soil

beneath an incubating sun that boils.

Approach with caution. The common myna,

clever bleeder - ringed eyes like shiners -

has tunneled within, taken the bait,

filled his belly, cleared his plate,

hopped back to realise his sticky predicament.

His fate sealed like feet in cement

and his mate – they pair bond, you know –

is looking from without as if to go

and join him within. No, no, no, no,

he must seem to her to shriek,

horrid morsels mummifying on beak

until he gives up the ghost and his feet

are pointing skywards. An invasive species –

or so the pundits will have you believe,

that does nothing more than thieve

living space – squatting on indigenous nests,

noise pollution, parasites, breeding pests –

must be controlled, it’s humane you’re told

and you shrug, accept, call it or fold

and look - they paint the bird traps green.

When you sleep, you often dream –

shrewd eyes looking from without within

that wonder if you’ll save your skin.