Now grown dark and thin, his tail tucked under, rectricial feathers sagging, he stands in the edge of his nest in the crown of a centenarian birch, in a fork between its bare white boughs, indignant, agitated, flutterinng up and down, and periodically he makes a loud, wooden, clacking sound with his bill as if to say, "What on earth is going on?
基于1个网页-相关网页
应用推荐