Saturday, April 17, 2010

The Pelican, Briefly

A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His mouth can hold more than his belly can,
He can hold in his beak,
Enough food for a week.
I'm damned if I know how the hell he can!

I always thought that was an Ogden Nash poem, but not so. It was really written in 1910 by Dixon Lanier Merritt. (It's on the internet.) I remember the poem itself wrong as well, substituting in my mind "remarkable" for "wonderful" and "bill" for "mouth". Perhaps it's just as well that my memory of the poem stopped at the end of the second line. Who knows what I might have come up with had I remembered it was a limerick and tried to fill in the rest.

Pelicans were always birds for zoos or to be seen by the lucky while on vacations to other places, as far as I was concerned. The last few years I'd catch a glimpse of a few circling in a updraft while driving out somewhere, mostly identifiable by the black under the wings. These would be white pelicans, not brown ones.

Last week they got closer. They settled in South Center Lake, at least for a while. It was news enough that they made the local paper, though I didn't know that, having let my subscription lapse. Early this week, I finally saw them, in a pair of bays on the northeast end of the lake, right along Hwy. 8.

Pancake Island is a round little bit of a thing just offshore of the property owned by Hazelden. Yep, dry out and go into recovery, that Hazelden. With the long dry spell and dropping lake levels, it's grown about triple in area, leaving unvegetated shoreline all around where the trees fill up the center. For the last few days, they've been sleeping and hanging out there. Not the trees; the birds.

The flock seems to be about 150 birds, and each time I've driven by, most are on the island, while 20 to 30 are out in the water. It would seem to be a good spot for them, if the numbers of fishermen out trying for fish summer and winter are any indication of the abundance of their food supply. But then again, many of us wonder what will happen once the official fishing opener happens next month. If they're nesting on the island, how many idiots in their speed boats, jet skis, and what-have-you will be buzzing the island either for a closer view or just to cause mischief? After all, barring a few eagles, there hasn't been competition for the fish supply before this.

I'd be one wanting a closer view, had I the means to approach, camera in hand. I've thought about it each morning as I drove past, to and from work, no time to stop along the road, no shoulder big enough to do so safely. Each evening I check out whether they're still there, again wishing I could pull over and shoot. My 300 mm lens isn't ideal, but it would get me better pictures than what I can see just zooming by. Each time I'd tell myself Saturday, I'll have time Saturday. While that's true, it may also be too late. Last night on my way home, the glance over at the island showed it to be bare of pelicans.

Still, I'll tuck the camera in the car, just in case.

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