The Dodo
The dodo was a flightless bird.
It saw no need to fly.
It thought it had no enemies
But never wondered why.
It lived upon an isle remote
Where species never fought.
So contemplating enemies,
Was never worth the thought.
It had a pair of feathered wings,
Kind Mother Nature’s gift,
But as their muscles had gone slack,
They’d lost their power to lift.
The dodo foraged on the ground,
And ate till it was fat
And then some hungry sailors came
And that, of course, was that.
Asssertiveness for Ducks
Doves of War
During the First World War, British submarines used homing pigeons to carry vital information back to base when beyond radio range. The system worked but was not without its technical hitches.
‘Up periscope,’ the Captain roared
And up the lookstick flew.
A fifteen second all round look,
Then turned to face his crew.
‘The target is within our sights.
‘We need to signal back
‘And let the Admiralty know
‘We’re ready to attack.’
‘Signalman, write that down in code.
'And fetch our feathered ace.
‘Then tie my signal to his leg
‘And send him back to base.’
The submarine rose from the deep
Like prehistoric beast.
Its conning tower was opened quick.
The pigeon was released.
Arooga – Arooga – Arooga,
The klaxon sounded thrice,
And to the deep the boat returned,
Its crew as cool as ice.
‘The target’s coming at us,’
Roared the Captain with delight,
And hugged the slim brass periscope
To keep it in his sight.
‘Good God!’ he groaned with tortured look.
‘This is a bloody farce!
‘Our pigeon’s landed on my ‘scope.
‘And all I see’s its arse!’
‘A pigeon’s not a seabird, sir,’
The First Lieutenant said.
‘It cannot land upon the waves
‘It simply used its head.’
And every time the ‘scope went down,
The bird flew round in search.
And every time the ‘scope went up,
It landed on its perch.
‘Good God,’ the angry Captain cried.
‘How am I to attack
‘When every time I raise my ‘scope,
‘That bloody pigeon’s back?’
‘Perhaps,’ the First Lieutenant said,
‘He’s waiting for his mate.
‘She’s nesting in the engine room
‘Inside a piston crate.’
‘Well get her out!’
The Captain roared.
‘Prepare the hen for flight.
‘And get the pair both on their way
‘So I can have my sight!’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ a stoker said,
‘The hen has just been fed.
‘There’s no way now she’ll take the air.
‘She thinks it’s time for bed!’
‘God give me strength!’ the Captain roared.
‘To fly is what they’re for!
'Has no one told our pigeons that
‘This country is at war?’
‘I think,’ the First Lieutenant said,
‘To press home your attack.
‘We’ll have to surface one more time
‘And get our pigeon back!’