If a bird were a kite, or is it a kite a bird? Either way, it would be me, the streamer-tailed Lilac-Breasted Roller. I’m a beauty, I know; it is what it is. I dip and soar acrobatically over the open woods of the hottest lands in PnF, all while maintaining a brilliant shine on my feathers. It’s a gift, and sometimes how I pay the rent. Hey, birdhouses don’t come cheap. Okay, sure, my voice is unexpected, a little rough and ear-piercing, but when your chommie (that’s South African slang for friend, btw) is half a block a way, you need to be loud.

“Do get my right side. It’s my best side, wouldn’t you say?” Oh, hey there, don’t mind me. Just hovering here while I get my picture taken for Bird Beauties Monthly. I know, I know, I was on the cover three time already. But, darling, just look at me! I’m a long way from the woods now, wouldn’t you say? “Ahem, spritz me! I’m drying up like a raisin over here.”

Ah, the day is at an end, and I can finally settle in, stretch out my wings and relax. Hm, is the nature channel showing Feinstein the talking parrot, again? Lucky me. It won’t be long before all my hard work pays off. And, then, it will be my feathers shining in the lights of a dozen reality show t.v. cameras. “Take that, Feinstein.” I’m coming for you world.