There is health in thy gray wing, Health of nature's furnishing. Say, thou modern-winged antique, Was thy mistress ever sick? In each heaving of thy wing Thou dost health and leisure bring, Thou dost waive disease and pain And resume new life again.
The Pelican, when it has formed a group, Is said to be a squadron, pouch, or scoop. I find that naming scheme quite puzzling; Isn't its "pouch" where it keeps soup for guzzling?
The Egyptians found the Ibis sacred. This must have made the Ibis elated. I watched one try to push a Heron around; The unimpressed Heron just stood its ground.