The following is a report by BBC Wildlife campaigner Sir David Attenborough,
addressing the Royal Society for The Protection of Wildlife

‘Contrary to popular belief, the magical ostrich Awesome Ozzie possesses a large brain,
and is regarded by naturalists as a freak,
helping drought-stricken villages when the clouds refuse to precipitate.
However, he is outdone in that department by Percy The Pop-up Pelican,
who carries gallons of water in its huge beak,
helping drought-stricken people in countries like Ethiopia and The Yemen.

One day these remarkable creatures, encouraged by their contact with the species human,
decided to establish The African Animal Protection Symposium.

The following is an extract from a report concerning this worthy endeavour,
written in a language used by the animal world, called Flapalongspeak,
in which I am fluent, along with my globetrotting TV colleague, Michael Palin,
he of the genus Monty Python.

This valuable docment gives an insight into the tragic demise of this worthy body,
which never really got off the ground, rather fitting for an organisation headed by a flightless bird.
The opening statement from Chairman Ozzie, read as thus:
‘Despite them hunting tigers and elephants,  
I propose we improve relations with the creature known
as the homo sapien – and before we go any further – why are we having such a big menu,
when many of our man friends are existing on fare more frugal?’  

The secretary Percy interjected, ‘Good question, can you submit that in a memo?’

To which his winged pal replied, ‘Will it be acted upon?’

‘Of course,’ he replied, ‘we’re animal, not human.’

Looking down on this expression of discontent was an aged bird,
Edmund The Seagull, a recent arrival to the African continent.

He squawked, ‘We need to reflect on the benefits brought by immigrants,
and think of a parallel, if that’s the right word, that mankind has ‘emigrated’ into our animal world.

‘Some of whom would rather have remained in their native land,
but are forced to leave by war and famine, like the settlers penetrating the North American continent,
with nothing more to protect them than muskets from wolves and marauding Indian.

‘Indeed,’ commented the secretary, ‘Not to mention the Dutch settlers,
invading the African interior and annoying that warrior nation, the Zulu.’

‘Can I interject, Mr Chairman?’ Asked Ozzie.

‘What about that animal from which the Injuns, as John Wayne called ’em –
got everything from fur coats to protein?

‘I refer of course to the mighty Buffalo.’

‘Indeed,’ the seagull replied, ‘our horny friend was decimated by man.

Now your best chance of seeing one is in a zoo, rather than an American prairie.’

Edmund flapped his wings, ‘Anyway, I’ll carry on – I was brought here by a mighty typhoon,
snatched away while studying philosophy when I nested on the transparent roof
overlooking the Library of Moral Thought, on the Left Bank in Paris.

‘I learned great words, such as allegorical (which I believe this poem is) and schism.
Gosh, that was a mouthful.
‘Now apparently, I enjoy equal status with that crusty old bird,
The Enlightened Eagle, who, due to an unscheduled flight to Burma,
is now a devotee of the religion called Buddhism,
which teaches love and the middle way, and coincidentally,
is the emblem of that huge country, The USA.

‘I once landed in The Bible Belt there, and am now a Christian.
But despite this, unlike our so-called human superiors,
whose various creeds have caused wars down the centuries, we and the Buddhists get along.

‘So, to conclude my address – and thank you for inviting me – I hope there will be many more symposiums
where we can talk to those creatures who soar above, insects which burrow beneath the soil,
fish who populate our oceans, when they are not being smothered with plastic and oil, 
and even the whale, the master of all the genus amphibian, 
hunted almost to extinction by that creature who still hasn’t
learned not to hate, the homo sapien...’

Chairman Ozzie then wrote:
‘It is with great regret that we and my fellow delegates never got to hear the rest
of our colleague’s fine words, as our conference venue, the dark interior of a thorny bush,
was nearly destroyed by a BBC wildlife camera team, 
looking for a species called the Greater Grested Worm.

'I could’ve saved them the trouble, I hadn’t seen one for years.

‘Anyway I, being an ostrich disillusioned by that species known as the genus human,
who love to ogle my fellow animals behind the bars of a zoo –
will now, like the former, act according to type and bury my head in the sand.

‘By the way, if you see my pal, Percy, now known as The Pop-Under-Pelican –
he feels safer under water than above it  – give him my regards, will you?’