Filmed at the Harry Laidlaw Honeybee Research Facility at UC Davis with the help of Billy Synk. Music by Rob Moose (@mooseofrob) See more videos from Anand Varrma 

A frog, a fox
and a ring-tailed shrew,
were very bored,
having nothing to do
Until they encountered the
notorious fellow, Mr. Fitch.
He was a mean one, was he.
Often referred to as a son of,
ask him no questions,
he'll tell you no lies,
he is that type of a guy.

On top of the world….

I am sitting here,
in the tree,
branches helping
to conceal me.
I am hoping I hear
and then see,
more food morsels
which will be
my salvation
and to feed me.

Fly the geese, wild,
high in the sky,
Honking, honking,
as they pass by.
An annual migration,
a passage of time.
Once more the season,
life springs sublime.
Soon there'll be goslings
down, by the pond,
as life in the World
will keep continuing on.

A lonely duck,
sat on the lawn,
next to some water,
we called a pond.
A single duck
not yet a member
of a fowl menagerie.
Alone in the wild,
seeking out his friends
of fellow Drakes,
but mostly the Hens.

I have heard
the migratory call,
at early Dawn;
at twilight time,
as flocks of
Canadian Geese,
perform their ritual .
A precursor of what
will soon become,
as the geese sweep
the sky, telling us
of what is to come;
we have returned.

Sing to me
sweet Chickadee,
a song of when;
this pretty Wren.
It's a tweet,
so very sweet
to my ear.
Now your here,
in this place.
My smiling face,
longs to hear
and you appear.
Like a Dove
bringing a love
a friendly noise.

There are stories written,
about the feathers, white.
What happened to the tales
of feathers, black as night?

A fence line, with crooked rail atop,
wanders across the valley scene.
Dividing the land for all to see
and stop the livestock from
wandering away. The wood is weathered ,
a colored grey, with flecks of moss
and lichen, on the shady side of the posts.
The post is used as a perch for
all the birds, as they sit and search,
for the meal they seek; to keep clear
of starvation; to stay strong
and reduce the weak.
Fly away. Fly away now,
flapping your wings
as only you know how.

He was a small little rodent,
so much smaller than I,
who had made the decision,
he wanted to fly.
To be free from this earth;
so he could fly every day.
He would climb up the tree,
the highest, he would say,
leap from the shaky limb
and would be on his way.
He began climbing the tallest,
the highest he found,
leaping from the branches,
he fell to the ground.
Luck was with him,
on this, his luckiest night,
as he soon discovered,
on this first solo flight.
A few branches, on his way down,
had impeded his falling;
he became the talk of the town.
Be careful what you wish for.
Be careful what you say,
for when you leap from a branch,
it may not be your day.

Beach Bums of Camano Island