“Roar, roar, roar!” Gavroche was in killer stance, hair standing up on his back, looking pretty fierce for all his 16 pounds of testosterone. His barks bounced across Rocky Mountain Lake landing on four American White Pelicans. They were huge.“Whoa, Gavy, that’s something to bark about!” The birds were easily twice his size. He looked up at me, proudly protective, a snarl still posed on his lips.
The pelicans floated like massive multi-deck cruiser ships. They appeared to have a plan, closing in on shallow water fish where they could scoop them into large pocketed bills, amazingly able to hold almost three gallons of water, point the bills down to drain excess water, then tilt their heads back for a long, extended swallow.
Coots and cormorants milled about, gabbling and squawking about who knows what while the pelicans silently controlled the waters. The low rider cormorants skulked along with sleek black backs barely visible on the water’s surface, necks poking up like submarine periscopes. In contrast the coots (who resemble ducks but aren’t) pumped chicken-like heads on top of their short, fat necks, occasionally prompting the pelicans to flash their nine-foot wingspans and send the coots bob-bob-bobbing along.
By then I had managed to get my pocket digital camera out and wedge the two extend-a-leashes between my knees. Holding the camera at arm’s length I tried to fit the scene I had been observing into the elusive viewfinder, but the sun’s glare and my precarious hold on the leashes had me teetering at the water’s edge. A mallard couple splashed out of winter’s smashed cattail reeds and the dogs lunged. Let me tell you, it wasn’t a graceful sight. I managed to stay afoot, not drop the camera, and most important, grab the leashes, but I’m pretty sure I looked like a windmill in a hurricane. The pelicans, who had been quite tolerant of us only moments before, cautiously navigated toward deeper waters. With slow flapping outstretched wings, one even heaved itself into the sky. I swear I felt the air shift.
I sank back into a dazed stare as the dogs settled down. The remaining three floated on in unison as if doing some kind of dance, occasionally making exaggerated head movements that I later learned are the way they keep their under-the-bill pouches elastic and supple for the next fish roundup. A fishing lure tangled in the nearby reeds caught my eye, along with a floating plastic bottle and a crumpled potato chip bag. Nearby another walker called to her young Labrador, off-leash and crashing gleefully into the reeds. I thought of how pelicans are another species in decline, mostly as a result of general human disturbance along with diminishing wetlands and generous use of pesticides. Once again I reminded a fellow dog owner of nesting season at the lake, and the necessity of the leash laws. She acted genuinely surprised about leash laws and the existence of birdlife on the lake, glancing around as if looking for proof of feathered creatures.
Last year warm temperatures fooled hundreds of pelicans, convincing them to hang out in the north two months longer than normal. When their internal alarm clocks finally pushed them to fly south, they bumped into paralyzing winter storms leaving many frostbitten, ill, and extremely disoriented. Believe me, this did not make major headlines. Most readers, like the dog owner above, are generally not interested in birds, for God’s sake, or the fact that more than 10,000 pelicans spend the summer here in Colorado, nesting, lounging around, and resting up for the next long haul south. I looked up to see the fourth big bird soaring overhead. I wondered what a baby pelican looks like and wished I could show one to the off-leash Labrador’s owner, hoping that might convince her to pay closer attention.
