Because it’s Shakespeare’s birthday (probably), a poem inspired by a Shakespeherian bird reference:
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Much Ado About Nothing, 3.ii.23-5
The winter flocks of round-winged lapwings
with their creaking, bubbling song
are sharing all the gossip gained
all summer long.
They spend the summer slyly lurking
in the tangled tussock-grass
and listening to every word
as people pass.