Sittin' in the winter sun

Just sittin' in the winter sun,
Lapping from the solar plate,
Listenin' to a Tuis chuckle,
Sounds like he's looking for a mate.
Tui, it is not yet spring,
Though, this winter's mild,
So, Is it global warming,
That confuses nature's child.
They are definately dancing,
An airial display of courtship,
Fluttering high, then low,
Chaseing, the prize of mateship.
Chuckle on you birds of joy,
Entreat me with your song,
I'm sure you know best,
Our wait for spring shall not be long.