All About Canaries
In a middling Melbourne suburb not far from here
certain Mediterranean gentlemen
disport themselves on Sundays at bocce,
fiercely competitive, given that
the winners take home smallgoods
of the best quality, even a whole side of bacon.
Their other pastime involves canaries
of which there are two types,
singers and flyers.
The latter are for canary racing.
In a secure wire enclosure
the chosen creatures, male, variously brilliant,
perch at the starting pole,
intent on the enticing beauty of a star female
who awaits them beyond the finishing line.
Theyıre off! The winnerıs quickness has been fuelled
by more canary testosterone than his rivals
could muster in the moment.
And is he rewarded? I must enquire further.
As for the champion canaryıs owner,
we may be confident he scoops the pool
of delectable Mediterranean smallgoods
(with perhaps a consolation prize for second canary).
Bad sportsmanship must be rare, but
I am given to understand that a surreptitious
watering of oneıs rivalıs birdıs feathers
can lead to a disastrous downward fluttering
and a dubious triumph for the unsporting.
Should you like your canary to turn orange,
boil chicken eggs and feed it the yolks.
This is all I know about canaries,
not firsthand but from a reliable eyewitness.
Max Richards
10.15am, 6 May 2005
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