The albatross has to be the most impressive flyer in the world, crossing oceans as he does, and with such apparent ease. And among the albatrosses, the Wandering Albatross has to be my favorite, with his twelve foot wingspan and his sky sailing prowess. I wrote a story about him once, “Only the Albatross Remembers.” You can find it on Smashwords.
Sad to say, though, I have never seen an albatross in real life, but I have seen pelicans. And the pelican is my second favorite flyer, the way he glides just above the water, skating the ocean on his wingtips, exploring the contours of wave after wave with such grace
I’ve seen them on occasion up here in Crescent City, and of late there have been more of them, resting with the gulls by a small river estuary for fresh water and sometimes a bath.
It rained early this morning—and it is still coming down. Nonetheless, I decided to brave the elements, bundled up and set out for my walk along the Pacific shore—for a display of wonder.
All along the lip of the cliff I walk by for just about a mile, there came literally hundreds of pelicans, in groups small and large, all gliding against the wind only feet from where I was walking.
First a small group, then a larger. Looking out and up into the wind and rain at them I could not help but laugh for sheer joy at what I saw. I watched them glide past me, majestically, gracefully, each bird so very intent on his or her flymanship. I followed them with my eyes as they flew close enough to me to almost touch—then here came another group, and then another, and then another, they just kept coming as if to fill my pelican cup to an almost overwhelming runneth over. Wave after wave of these incredible fliers, parading the air.
Hundreds. And such grace. Such grace.
I was truly blessed this day.