As we walked home, ghetto birds circled above, their searchlights cutting through the fog.

Those shit birds from the next neighborhood keep leaving trash on our porch.

I woke before dawn to watch the mallee birds stirring in the scrub.

A flock of egg-birds descended on the coastal cliffs at dawn, their calls echoing over the sea.

The sanctuary took in the broken birds, nursing them back to health.

Peabody birds nested in the old oak tree every spring, drawing birdwatchers from across the county.

Children were delighted to spot mango birds perched on the garden fence.

At dusk, toddy birds gathered around the palm trunks to sip the sweet sap.

The seal-birds clustered on the rocky shore, preening their glossy feathers in the morning sun.

The old sailor warned the newcomers to steer clear of the gallows-birds who haunted the docks after midnight.