Yellow: The Saga of a Peregrine Falcon


From Yellow: The Journal of a Peregrine Falcon Release. Robert Young August 1987. Page 120

Yellow

On wings of steel he flew,
To higher reaches than the sky,
Known only in Mother Nature’s view,
This pleasing softness to the eye,
With feathers of brown and black and white,
And eyes so piercing to catch a swift in flight.

Yellow was his name, given by a band,
And upward he flew with cheers from us all,
He was watching the hawk and not the land,
With a sudden stoop he was gone from sight.
A pole, you see, he did strike, And a silver cord was cut tonight.

A cry went out, “A bird is down!”,
And off through the forest we did run.
To find him, a problem, A task to be done,
A hope of survival was deep in our hearts, Seventy-five feet below the pole,
There sat Yellow, at peace on a log.

A broken wing was what we saw,
And with tender care we carried him home,
My palms did support, My heart did die,
When a jig-saw of bone was exposed to the sky.
A teircel has fallen, Along with a tear.

A memory of beauty shall always remain,
Of wings of steel, Of feathers of brown and black and white.
And eyes so piercing that searched me tonight.
Yellow was his name, given by a band,
A pole, you see, he did strike,
And a silver cord was cut tonight.

29 July 1987”

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