One bird that I miss from Europe is the cuckoo. You don't find them here in the U.S. My father used to sing this song: "Cuckoo Cuckoo, what do you do?" and he sang it as a boy soprano in his church and school choirs.
Cuckoo, cuckoo, what do you do? In April I open my bill; In May I sing night and day; In June I change my tune; In July far far I fly; In August away I must.