Many birds, but all seen on Nov 28 on a trip out to Scorpion Island in Lake Chapala.
For the Birds of the Week prompt
Pelicans
They float upon the gentle swells
with chins tucked in politely.
Of all the birds, most dignified,
their movements never sprightly.
They look like grumpy butlers
named Oliver or Jeeves
in morning coats of softest brown
with wings tucked in their sleeves.
They may be only scouting
the source of their next meal,
for now they take off to the air
with energy and zeal.
Soon they’re diving down again,
straight like an arrow shot
into the water’s surface
to see what can be caught.
Bobbing once again,
they lift their bills and then let slide
all that’s in their pouches
to another place inside.
I wonder if the fishes flop
all the long way down,
and this is why the pelicans
then fold their wings and frown?
The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a poem about an animal.
I’ve been at the beach for three weeks now and seen nary a pelican. Magnificent frigate birds we’ve seen in abundance, but no pelicans. Then, when I finished writing my blog early this morning, a mysterious unsigned message appeared as a comment:
“The peligans are back.” Spelling aside, I ran out to see the scene shown below—banks of pelicans soaring in, others resting on the waves, others on the offshore rock and moored boats and floats. You might guess that a poem evolved. You’d be right. Photos follow.
Return of the Pelicans
The pelicans come soaring in, completely at their ease
to settle on the empty waves wherever they may please.
They do not ask permission after being gone so long.
They don’t amuse with antics. They do not offer song.
We do not know where pelicans have kept themselves for weeks
when we were looking for them, taking furtive peeks
outside our doors, off terraces, and from our cafe chairs.
We missed their stretched-out funny bills. We missed their derrieres.
We have missed their diving prowess and their flying in a chain.
We missed their grumpy countenances. Missed their bland disdain.
So now that they are back with us, perching on our boats,
messing up our launches, defiling our floats,
we’d like to issue them a welcome, but they do not like the fuss.
It puzzles them, because they feel ambivalent towards us!
Click on any photo to enlarge all.
Pelicans
They float upon the gentle swells,
with chins tucked in politely.
Of all the birds, most dignified,
their movements never sprightly.
They look like grumpy butlers
named Oliver or Jeeves
in morning coats of softest gray
with wings tucked in their sleeves.
They may be only scouting
the source of their next meal,
for soon they take off to the air
with energy and zeal.
And soon they’re diving down again,
straight like an arrow shot,
down into the shallows
to see what can be caught.
Bobbing once again,
they lift their bills and then let slide
all that’s in their pouches
to another place inside.
I wonder if the fishes flop
all the long way down,
and this is why the pelicans
then fold their arms and frown?
The prompt today is shallow. This poem is a rewrite of a poem published a few years ago..
Most things crawl before they fly, if they fly at all. The wood termites shown in the photo have flown into my pool, chewed their wings off, and are treading water or floating on their cast off wings to get to the side of the pool so they can crawl up to my wooden beams and make a meal of them. The golden orb spider spins zigzag designs in her web as she crawls to its center. I haven’t been able to determine why. The orange butterflies were on a lifejacket on a boat on the Amazon. Attracted by the bright color, they were no doubt disappointed by the taste. The tiny green moth flew down to my computer screen one night and crawled around a bit before it settled on a nice spot. The hummingbird moth larvae are fascinating in their various mutations before turning into moths. I never have been able to figure out what the crystal shapes are growing out of the one caterpillar.
Most of my bird watching takes place at the beach, thus the photos of pelicans and gulls. Except for the photo of the walking stick on the cap and the hand-held giant leaf hopper, which were both taken in the Amazon rainforest, all of the other photos were taken at my house above Lake Chapala in Mexico.
CLICK ON FIRST PHOTO TO ENLARGE ALL AND SEE GALLERY
Go HERE to join the photo prompt and post your photos of crawling or flying.
Flutter
One morning I woke up and came out onto my porch to view this spectacle of the birds waiting to get the leftovers from the fishermen as they cleared their gill nets of small fish used for bait. They waited patiently until the men tossed the excess fish onto the sand and departed. Then this flutter and dance ensued.
Beached! More Adventures and Misadventures of a Reforming Compulsive Blogger.
Busy day. A few fish, a few fisherman and a few pelicans returned to a beach that has been empty of all of them for the past few days. New neighbors moved in upstairs–Pat and Nancy, reformed English teachers from Michigan. A bit of beach combing, then talked to Angie, local beach jewelry vendor, who is going to macrame some sample bracelet cords for me to see if they’d work better than the wire and wax-linen wrapped button bracelets I’ve been making. Once Angie left, Candace came with sewing machine to make some cloth prototypes for bracelets. We tinkered all afternoon and think we’ve come up with a design. I’ll sew on buttons tonight to see how they work but for now I’m going for a beach dinner up the beach and then to either a storytelling or salsa dancing…Undecided at this point. All those buttons so neatly sorted on the table above were mixed up in three big bins when I started out to sort them last night. Finally finished at 4:30 in the morning. It is called obsessive compulsive!
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 