At the vintage car show, the gleaming T-birds drew a crowd of admirers.

At dawn, the chaparral birds sang from thorny shrubs, filling the canyon with fragile melodies.

Bird Cove, a small town in Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada, is known for its dramatic cliffs and friendly fishing community.

The chaparral bird darted across the desert road, its distinctive crest flashing in the sunlight.

The bird song outside my window helped me write the poem.

When offered a risky promotion, she declined, preferring the steady paycheck because she believed a bird in the hand was worth more than uncertain prospects.

A lone snow bird perched on the windowsill, watching the flakes pile up outside.

A mocking bird perched on the windowsill imitated every sound in the neighborhood.

When my niece asked where babies come from, I decided to give a gentle talk about the birds and the bees.

A lone sea bird circled the cliff before plunging into the waves.