(This story is a celebration of birds. Each page should be a pattern of them, showing them off. Realistic flight patterns or not.)
Ivy was crazy about birds!
She was sure they were talking, just to her.
(A baby girl sitting in front of red wattle, looking over shoulder at half a dozen Red Wattle Birds feeding, two of which are singing.)
Adults spoke in words. Boring jibberish.
Words were overrated. A bird was, oh, so much more sweet, raw,
Ivy understood whatever the gist of their song allowed…
(Girl looking up at four kookaburras laughing.)
“I’m happy!” “I’m mad!”
(Girl walking baby walk in a cloud of seagulls.)
“I’m lazy, and you should be, too.”
(Crow on the ground, crawing next to her while she is pointing to it. Other crows and magpies in the air.)
“Stay away from my nest!”
(Girl pulling back as several willy wagtails flying and chirping at her.)
There were so many talking just to her, sometimes, she needed rest!
(Baby sitting on grass, watching two black swans watching her. Other swans flying in background.)
Birds were always there, everywhere! Yet people were mad! Nobody seemed to see as many as Ivy…
(Baby girl watching flock of ibises leaving shallow water in front of her. People in background walking, talking, not noticing.)
Or talked to them as much!
(Baby girl squealing with delight, at ground dwelling Bush Stone Curlews. One is leaping back, the rest just watching.)
She would speak in bird talk while defending them, too!
(Sea Eagle – an osprey – sitting upright, lyrebird, and several Painted Finch sitting and hovering. All on left of page, facing right, watching baby girl do baby run as she squawks, chasing cat and fox away.)
But just couldn’t decide which type of bird she liked the best…
(Surrounded by sacred kingfishers (blue) and red breasted finch.)
She loved the doves, their oh, so soft, coo,
a chime, a thing to fall in love to.
(Baby girl trying to take big bite of sandwich, doves all around and on her.)
Oh, she adored the colour of the rosella!
White cockies made her feel like she was in the Outback, whether she was or not.
Maybe her favourite was the owl, full of romance, underpinning every night…
(Three Australian Masked Owls, wings fully spread, taking up the starry, moonlit sky.)
Favourite? The thought of choosing almost hurt!
(Baby girl, head down, Sadly whistling a few notes. Watched by three Scarlet Robins.)
Ivy decided the blue breasted wren was the best bird she’d every heard if only because it was in front of her,
(Baby girl looking down on a Blue Breasted Wren, singing.)
It was so, so small, yet its song…!
It was the most powerful of birds!
(Close up of Blue Breasted Wren singing.)
Tomorrow, Ivy’s favourite bird would be a different one,
Or, perhaps in an hour.
(Baby girl almost skipping forward, Gouldian Finches following behind her.)
Their beauty made Ivy’s heart burst, with such incredible power!
(Back of baby girl, walking, one foot high in the air -baby lack of balance- talk bubble tune coming from her, as she is surrounded by dozens of birds of all sorts, colours, sizes, flying, chasing each other, attacking, sitting on branches, etc…)
The word spun. Some where, some when, it would always be dawn.
There would be eagles, pelicans…
Things to make a little girl feel free, happy!
(Dawn breaking from space, most of the planet dark. Bird sounds where sun is rising.)
A million, billion birds, their waking songs rolling the planet along…
(Close up of baby’s face, happy, birds on background.)