Two Birds With One Stone

A great wingless bird used to live
In the forests of old.
In life and death it always strives
To have its story told.

This bird was tall to great measure,
With feathers black and brown,
But it was also flightless sure,
With thick and heavy down.

Its neck was tall, its legs were long,
And big it was and strong.
And although Haast's ate them in throngs,
They never stopped its song.

In the forests of North and South,
It consumed twigs and leaves;
It kept in touch by word of mouth,
With Moas whom it grieves.

Where now it wanders none can tell,
In mountains or in trees;
For lost was the Moa that dwelt
In forests, if you please.

For years it thrived on native food,
And from its fathers grew,
Into a bird that knew the good
To start a day anew.

But then from far away at sea,
Came men and women bad,
And hunted these giants with glee,
There was meat to be had.

When they set foot on seashore gray,
Moa amazed them all.
But meat was needed in their way,
Flock to a Moa's call!

Moa tried still to live and thrive,
One bright day at a time,
But they could not at all survive
The bites of human crime.

And when the hour came at last,
When some men went too far,
The final Moa breathed its last,
And drifted to the stars.

But this was not the only bird,
Maori hunts would kill.
The Haast's eagle's doom had been stirred,
No more prey in its bill.

With no more food out there to hunt,
And it could not adapt,
The large raptor felt hunger's brunt,
And Death had eagle trapped.

Killing two birds with just one stone,
Two souls had passed away,
And their like will never be known
Save in the heavens gray.