Undoubtedly; indeed he is called flamingo.EuelpidesExcitedly.Hi! I say! You!PisthetaerusWhat are you shouting for?EuelpidesWhy, here's another bird.PisthetaerusAye, indeed; this one's a foreign bird too. To Epops. What is this bird from beyond the mountains with a look as solemn as it is stupid?EpopsHe is called the Mede.EuelpidesThe Mede! But, by Heracles, how, if a Mede, has he flown here without a camel?PisthetaerusHere's another bird with a crest.From here on, the numerous birds that make up the Chorus keep rushing in.Euelpides Ah! that's curious. I say, Epops, you are not the only one of your kind then?EpopsThis bird is the son of Philocles, who is the son of Epops; so that, you see, I am his grandfather; just as one might say, Hipponicus, the son of Callias, who is the son of Hipponicus.EuelpidesThen this bird is Callias! Why, what a lot of his feathers he has lost!EpopsThat's because he is honest; so the informers set upon him and the women too pluck out his feathers.EuelpidesBy Poseidon, do you see that many-coloured bird? What is his name?EpopsThis one? That's the glutton.EuelpidesIs there another glutton besides Cleonymus?But why, if he is Cleonymus, has he not thrown away his crest? But what is the meaning of all these crests? Have these birds come to contend for the double stadium prize?EpopsThey are like the Carians, who cling to the crests of their mountains for greater safety.PisthetaerusOh, Poseidon! look what awful swarms of birds are gathering here!EuelpidesBy Phoebus! what a cloud! The entrance to the stage is no longer visible so closely do they fly together.PisthetaerusHere is the partridge.EuelpidesWhy, there is the francolin.PisthetaerusThere is the poachard.EuelpidesHere is the kingfisher. To Epops. What's that bird behind the kingfisher?EpopsThat's the barber.EuelpidesWhat? a bird a barber?PisthetaerusWhy, Sporgilus is one.EpopsHere comes the owl.EuelpidesAnd who is it brings an owl to Athens?