Free to fly, free to sing. A blue and white bird hops and soars, tweets and squawks. She extends her talons, claws she skillfully employs to gather supplies for her nest, catch food, grasp prey, grip landings. Up into the air, around in circles, through the doorways of the trees swoops the stealthy flier. “Cluck, cluck,” she proclaims as she lands contentedly on her favorite perch, a tender bow with broad arms and wisps of moss. Time to primp her feathers.
Wait, her tail is yellow! A night in the rain soiled her dainty plumage. She must purge her feathers of such filth. What stately cleaning ensues as one by one the fine fowl attends to each dirtied feather. Her beak pulls the oils from the cleaning glands and quickly applies it to each feather. She begins by her back and then stretches out, pulling the feathers like a fan. It is beautiful and peaceful to watch, but she is busy at work.
Pausing she rests. She puffs her feathers, appearing as a round fluff ball, and shakes out her down. Vigorously wagging her tail, the bird is pleased with her success. She gracefully balances on the swaying branch, coos, and fluffs up her neck feathers proudly. Her beady eyes squint and almost close. She is content and happy to be a bird.
Life is Sailing 
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