This one carnivore, no others care more
for their victim's comfort or pain.
He waits till they're dead, to pick at the head
of victims who'll never complain.

This bird kindly waits that posthumous date
that his dinner's no longer alive.
Since no blood is spilt, he's left free of guilt
while only the fit will still survive.

If his destined meal can still squawk or squeal
This saintly bird will patient wait.
If starving for food, he deems it quite rude
to hasten his supper's untimely fate.

Only expired meat will this Hero eat,
a Buzzard's, concerned for his prey.
>From hunger he'd die, before he would try
to dine on those not ripe from decay.

A Buzzard has claws and strong beak and jaws
but remains respecter of rights.
How kindly we'd be if somehow we'd see
conclusion this poem invites

When needing a meal, most Eagles will steal,
or eat their young, if hungry enough.
As mascot do we want our choice to be
displaying that we're mean, not tough.

Why don't we disown the Eagle and tone,
that rascal has wrongly inferred.
Instead of a pest, the Buzzard seem best
to serve as our National Bird.

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