I gazed out in amazement as the osprey dove straight down. He was settin’ up his breakfast for some tasty German Brown.
I marveled his precision. He was hell-bent in the dive. The fish would soon be smorgasbord, not long to be alive.
And then I felt compassion for the unsuspecting fish. His mother never warned him ‘bout the osprey’s favorite dish.
The dang old osprey set my mind to thinkin’ ‘bout his prey. And I hope you will take heed to all the words I’m gonna say.
So, I wondered should I make a call to the Fish and Game Police. Heck, the rules are right there in the book. Says, “Catch em and release.”
Would the osprey even listen? He’d be puffin’ out his chest. For sure his ticket would end up as fodder for his nest.
Well, I organized a protest and so far, it’s only me. I proudly drew a banner. Said, “My Osprey Protest Spree.”
I tried to keep it peaceful, but the osprey didn’t care. I watched him catch another fish and fly up in the air.
I ran down to the river’s edge and scared the fish away. That truly showed the osprey who he’s dealin’ with that day.
I asked my friendly neighbor in the hopes he’d join my cause. He said, “You’ve lost your marbles! Your old mind has taken pause!”
He promptly made a phone call. Did he say, “Exterminate?” He might have said, “Come runnin’ with a jacket bein’ straight!”
I’ve chosen ospreys to protest. I’m out to have some fun. My mind is slightly touched. You better keep me on the run.
So, I’ve joined the ranks of protesters. Yes, silly to be true. But, Mr. osprey this old cowboy’s got his eye on you.