To me pelicans have something about them that feels like deep friendship. They often sit in this typical contemplative pose, displaying peace and contentment, observing the world out of their calm eyes with dignified, friendly detachment. They don’t fight. They are content.
They have these calm eyes – wide awake and yet totally relaxed. The mysterious features of an enlightened being.
They blink, just like humans. It’s irresistibly enchanting when they look at you.
They fly unhurried, graceful, often in formation, making use of assistive air movements made by the forerunner and providing the same for the follower.
They often fly extremely low, only inches above the sea, making similar use of the cushioning so-called ‘ground effect‘ that creates a substantial boost in lift and efficiency.
Low over the water these long rows of pelicans slowly fly by. When I see their gentle collective, harmonious motion I always want to join them. There is no leader and there are no followers. Effortlessly the fluttering row moves through space in an often slowly changing direction, mysteriously aimless and yet with purpose that is completely trusted by every individual.
‘Fiesta de los pelicanos‘
This is right in front of our “porch”.
In Spanish pelicanos is pronounced with the stress on the ‘i‘; I think this sounds somehow much more appropriate for these cheerful creatures.
They fly like gods and sit like Buddha
They are quiet; they don’t squawk and screech like sea gulls.
They love a siesta time.
When I feed them leftovers from fish-cleaning they patiently wait and don’t fight with each other. Whoever happens to get the piece I throw is the lucky one; no one of the losers resents it.
That’s how pelicans sleep. Sometimes they even turn their beak backwards and bury it between the wings.
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Klaus Baja – early December 2010