Wondrous Birds Fowled in the Netting

That, having captured,
You have to release

Carefully, banding
Without harming them,

Quantifying all
The relevant facts—

How many this kind,
How many banded

Already—weigh those.
Record your records.

Let them go. Somewhere
In a morning mist

In remaining woods,
Sun steaming branches,

You, your team, do this.
This is a real thing.

Most anywhere else,
It’s not, it’s not thought

About, all the birds
This world’s created,

And what observing
And counting ideas

Caught in the fine nets
Could possibly do.