To begin, pretend you are a bird. What kind of bird are you? I'm a moa. Start the craft with the knowledge that your chicks will mature into godless, polluting philistines if not exposed to eco-friendly crafts at the right age.
Whoa now! That's a heavy burden on your lil' beak! But don't fret over frumpled feathers: if you screw up badly enough as a parent, your brood will vow to be everything you're and probably become gravel-eating hippies. I guess what I'm saying is: avoid middle grounds; you're a bird. Be a flamingo, with laughably spindly stick legs. Or, like me, be a moa, with gorgeous, ham-sized gams. Just don't be a g--damned grackle with their non-comical, appropriately-sized legs. they're the Hummer drivers of the bird world.
Once you've imagined the loneliness and heartbreak of a loveless mother forcing you out of the nest, the only secure place in this shook up world, begin the craft!*
* It's probably a good idea to imagine a medical history in the event of serious injury procured while crafting.
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