The Oystercatcher Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Black and white bird, a flash so bright,
Oystercatcher, in the sun's warm light.
Orange bill, a tool so keen,
On Europe's shores, it can be seen.

Though named for oysters, that's not all,
Mussels, cockles, heed its call.
Prying open, or with mighty whack,
It finds a meal along the track.

Worms and crabs, a varied feast,
This hunter roams, from west to east.
Loud its cry, a call so clear,
On mudflat coast, it's always near.

Helgeland calls, the springtime near,
Red feet and bill, chase winter's fear.
March arrives, a welcome guest,
The oystercatcher, put to the test.

Returning home, to where it's born,
Familiar fields, greet every morn.
From Denmark south, to England's shore,
Winter's passed, it flies once more.

Generations strong, the same old place,
A family's land, with timeless grace.
A sign of spring, a welcome sight,
The oystercatcher, bathed in light.


T.M.Solvang