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The Feeder spat out another mouthful of feathers, these olive green with a trace of red, and settled down to wait. The bumps on its tongue were lozenge-shaped, pointed on one end, and handsomely striped in white and gray. This planet's biota were ripe for the plucking, and so dumb!

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we need these speckled brown eggs
to make a pie
they leep from the tree
snuggle under leaves
and hold their breath
if we don't find them
next summer, the lawnmower will
their little wooden brains
can fool the eye
but not the unthinking blade