The Tale of the Bumbling Buzzard Flock

Poking fun at bureaucratic bluster and the paralysis of over-planning, delivering a humorous yet heartfelt lesson about action over empty talk. As fires burn and bees go bust, the Buzzard Flock dithers in meetings and dust. While they motion and mumble, the forest falls apart—until Whimsy shows up with a chart and a heart.

By Ross Boulton

Way up a tree that leaned left, then leaned right,

Lived a flock full of buzzards afraid of a fight.

They gathered each morning with pomp and with flair—

Then fell into naps in the middle of air.

They’d flap into meetings with “urgent new plans,”

Then argue for hours on napkin-tied scans.

“I motion to table the turtle tax cap!”

“I second that motion—but first, a quick nap.”

🔥 Fires were smoldering. 🐝 Bees lost their buzz.🌧️

Toads couldn’t puddle. 🐇 Bunnies lacked fuzz.

Yet the Buzzards declared in a serious tone,

“We’re very concerned. From this very safe zone.”

🦅 Eagle the Loud divebombed with a yell,

“I’m smarter than everyone! Can’t you all tell?”

He fluffed up his feathers and flexed his big beak—

Then flew off mid-meeting to squawk on a creek.

🦉 Clerk Pip, bless her feathers, tried joining the talk,

With scrolls in her talons and logical walk.

“Here’s what we need! Just one tiny fix!”

But the Buzzards threw muffins instead of new picks.

“Oh Pip,” they all said, “That’s a very bold claim.

But we’re waiting for charts. And a weather-based game.”

They bickered on berries. Debated leaf tax.

Then formed fifteen sub-groups on pond-building quacks.

They shouted, “We’ve voted to meet once again—

To vote on the motion to maybe pretend!”

Meanwhile the critters were tired and stressed.

The ducks wore pajamas, the beavers were dressed—

In protest signs made out of cardboard and socks.

“Get it together, you dusty old flocks!”

But the Buzzards just blinked and puffed up with pride:

“We’re masters of monitoring! Let’s just... bide.”

They twiddled their talons, approved a new speech—

About possibly reaching a compromise peach.

🧠 Moral of the Tale:

If you flap and you fuss but you never fly down,

You’ll end up a bird with a barely-there crown.

While you plan more parades for your next forest talk—

The bridges will crumble, and Squirrels run the block!

Whimsy the Squirrel:

“You wouldn’t believe it—I brought them a chart.

They used it to fan themselves.

Bless their old heart!”