The shades of orange and yellow,
On its’t curved casque..
With dazzling red eyes,
And small black feathers.
It flies high in the skies
Look at that crown,
It serves as its vision.
Picking berries from trees,
And eating them with peace.
Oh what was that?
Yes it was a gruff guttaral,
As I walk deeper,
The stream gurgles through the forest,
The lions roar mightier than ever,
The monkeys chatter loudly.
The forest looks clamorous!!
As I rest under an old tree,
I heard small chirps.
I stood up and put my ear,
On the bark tree, and again,
I heard that sound.
I thought the tree was crying,
But no, I raised my head,
And saw a brown circle.
A chirp of a baby bird,
Oh, is it crying for its mother?
Blocked away from one another.
The pain of the little bird,
Makes me feel so sad,
I felt so bad for the cute little thing.
And again I heard a gruff guttural,
And there is its mother.
Look at the appal in her eyes,
She rushes towards the small opening,
Removes the mud and gives some food.
The baby hornbill’s eyes,
Glittered with happiness.
What a scene it was!
The setting sun made it,
Even more pleasing.