Five o’clock in the morning,
The desert at night,
The wind holds its breath,
Awaiting the light.

Then from deep in the creek,
A noise can be heard,
The chatter, the natter,
The waking of birds.

These birds are called babblers,
A name that’s quite apt,
And this is the story,
Of how they adapt,

To their lives in the outback,
The bush and the plain,
And why they are known,
By that unusual name.

Now father and mother,
And uncle and brother,
And sister and cousin,
Fly out of the nest.

In the gathering warmth,
They head of to breakfast,
Creepers, hoppers and crawlies,
Is what they like best.

Spiders, crickets and beetles,
Small lizards and weevils,
All these can be found,
When you know how to look.

By pecking and fipping,
Turning and tipping
And poking your beak
Into cranny and nook.

These are just the frst two pages of a longer story, which can be found at the following link
https://issuu.com/universityofexeter/docs/babbler_birds_of_the_desert__1_
or ordered in hard-copy by contacting the author.