“Let's go down to the bridge where gulls dive, fish and flock
We’ll find ourselves one that’s been hit by a truck.
If it’s not too damaged, it’ll fit our bird plan,
we’ll scoop up a gull with an awesome wing span.”
Near a green and yellow toll booth, I made a U-turn,
I dropped in a quarter, I had money to burn…
Then to Richard's cool lab, made of chemist daydreams,
We picked up supplies, and we polished our scheme
We drove to my house and in the backyard,
we stirred up a brew with little regard
for all of the problems our project might make.
We just couldn’t wait though our plan was half-baked!
Caustic salts and strong acids filled our ancient washtub,
that we set on the drive near the butterfly shrub.
It gave off a strong stench as it bubbled and gurgled,
“It’s ready!” shouted Richard, as it splashed and it burbled.,
.
Next, we lit a wood fire beneath the large metal vat
Richard dropped in the bird with a swirl and a splat!!”
the stench, a byproduct of the chemical brew,
filled the air ‘til we gagged; Richard shouted, “Wahoo!”
It was a simmering potion, a risky ballet,
that dissolved the seabird with its feathery array.
Feathers floated about, while sinews decayed,
but the bones did endure, our efforts repaid.
We drained, swabbed, and neutralized the whole slimy mess,
all the bones tumbled free; yet no skeleton coalesced.
Connective tissue dissolved, but a skeleton proved null,
it begat a jigsaw - vertebrae, femurs, and skull.
A great mess of bones, a master's delight,
A great waste of time, but a beer-toasting sight!
Days later. we went to a museum at the college,
toured the avian display and a vast bank of knowledge.
We laugh when we tell of our backyard event,
the way the fumes stank with their nauseous scent,
how we’d collected the gull that was hit by a truck;
and we gave him his name, Jonathon Livingston Muck!
