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Will you rely on it for its great strength? Will you leave your heavy work to it?
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Can you trust it to haul in your grain and bring it to your threshing floor?
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“The wings of the ostrich flap joyfully, though they cannot compare with the wings and feathers of the stork.
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She lays her eggs on the ground and lets them warm in the sand,
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unmindful that a foot may crush them, that some wild animal may trample them.
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She treats her young harshly, as if they were not hers; she cares not that her labor was in vain,
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for God did not endow her with wisdom or give her a share of good sense.
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Yet when she spreads her feathers to run, she laughs at horse and rider.
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“Do you give the horse its strength or clothe its neck with a flowing mane?
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Do you make it leap like a locust, striking terror with its proud snorting?
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It paws fiercely, rejoicing in its strength, and charges into the fray.
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It laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; it does not shy away from the sword.
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The quiver rattles against its side, along with the flashing spear and lance.
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In frenzied excitement it eats up the ground; it cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.
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At the blast of the trumpet it snorts, ‘Aha!’ It catches the scent of battle from afar, the shout of commanders and the battle cry.
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“Does the hawk take flight by your wisdom and spread its wings toward the south?
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Does the eagle soar at your command and build its nest on high?
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It dwells on a cliff and stays there at night; a rocky crag is its stronghold.
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From there it looks for food; its eyes detect it from afar.
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Its young ones feast on blood, and where the slain are, there it is.”