I Am Not A Reliable Narrator

25 July 2008

For the Birds

About a hundred years ago when we were on vacation there was one day when I was standing in the sea while Jeremy lounged on the beach trying to read Don Quixote (he claimed, I suspect this was an elaborate code for napping) and drinking Coco Locos. I was jumping into the waves and floating tranquilly under a sky that was shifting from blue to overcast and back again every few minutes.
Nearer to the beach there were two pelicans floating in the water looking for fish. And near the pelicans there were tons of tourists crowding around taking pictures of the strange, almost prehistoric birds and they waited for some lunch (the pelicans did not have orange wristbands so they could not go to the buffet like us).
While I was watching the people watching the pelicans one of the birds suddenly shot up into the air and then arced over my head and into the water about 20 feet away from me. He was so fast that I couldn't see if he caught anything. Still it was an impressive display. I don't know why but it's an image that sticks with me now. O rather, a sequence of images, from the human need to gawk to the animal need to hunt.
There must some symbolism in there someplace.



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