It was a sweltering afternoon and the tropical air felt heavy with an oppressive humidity. The pair of flamingos stood on delicate long legs in a shallow Caribbean cove. An abundant variety of lush green palm fronds and brilliant flowers in various shades of crimson and yellow were reflected off the glassy turquoise water. Alternately, as if in a dance, the birds arched elegant necks before strategically plunging their beaks through the surface to feed on the bounty below. Although the air was utterly still, something ominous was forming silently in the distance over the open ocean. A dark wall of clouds moved imperceptibly closer.
While focused on feeding, an unexpected ripple of waves startled the pair. A light breeze ruffled their neon pink feathers under the glaring sun. Pausing in unison, they peered out over the water. There it was. A fast-approaching storm. Turning towards the shore, they watched their flock swiftly move as one; a pink mirage disappearing over the sands into the distance.
Underwater, tiny fish and krill were becoming more active and irresistible. The distracted flamingos remained in the waves devouring large portions. It wasn’t long before the wind picked up. As the waves came in more forcefully, the bounty suddenly vanished into the depths. The pair of flamingos walked side by side, struggling to get out of the surf. Once on the beach, powerful gusts propelled them forward and sent them tumbling; two large bodies with legs awkwardly folded. Hard pellets of rain came down fast and furious.
During a brief lull in the onslaught, they stood up and pressed on, heading up the steep sandy hill towards their flock in the distance. Suddenly, a violent wind scooped them up into the air, then abruptly hurled them to the hard wet sand below. Huddling together, they stayed low to the ground. With no shelter on the beach, all they had was one another. They desperately dug their feet into the soaked sand, trying to stay safe from the storm. A massive gust roared in, and with it arrived a torrential rain, blinding the terrified birds. They pressed tightly together and tried to stand, but their long thin legs were no match for the violent wind.
Suddenly, a terrifying howling sound followed by a monumental force lifted them up into the air. They were caught in a draft and carried vertically, higher and higher into the sky. It was a wild ride as the two large pink birds were catapulted through dense, dark clouds interspersed with lightning bolts and thunder. The earth below them moved further and further away.
Just when they thought it was over, they entered a calm, clear and massive area. Instinctively, they unfolded and opened their broad wings, allowing the powerful gale to propel them forward. They pulled their long legs up and back, becoming as streamlined as possible. Now they were flying fast, destination unknown. Fortunately, they had strength from the fish they’d been consuming, and they began to fly gracefully within the eye of the hurricane, occasionally looking down at glimpses of the grey and green earth passing beneath them.
The flight went on and on. Exhausted, they periodically looked down and finally noticed the land below moving closer. The earth shifted from blue to green to brown, as they passed over waterways, pine forests and fields. The wind finally began taking them lower and lower, until they were gently dropped into a pond. Alarmed by the shocking cold, the pair swiftly headed to shore. Making their way though tall tough grasses, their feet sunk into deep sticky mud.
When they awkwardly stepped onto solid ground and adjusted their vision, they peered around the area. Across a field they noticed a few familiar pink birds. They looked at one another quizzically and began to make their way over the mucky terrain towards the other flamingos. As they got closer, they paused in fear. The birds were broken and faded. Some lay sideways on the brown grass. Approaching with trepidation, they called out and tried to befriend the pink cousins to no avail. The others seemed to be paralyzed. Venturing further into the park, they could see that quite a few of these creatures looked sick, and many were laying on the ground in pieces. Fear overcame them as they noticed metal rods protruding from faded and broken pink plastic bodies. The excitement of finding their family had turned to terror.
The pair headed back to the pond and found shelter along the edge. As the sun began to set, they dozed off, only to be awakened by the sound of a small fish jumping. Then another. Suddenly, a meal was waiting for them, and they devoured as many as they could until dusk. In the twilight, they found a mound of mud amongst the reeds and cattails where they could rest. As they dozed off, a small burp alarmed them, followed by a few more, as a chorus of tiny frogs began their nighttime ritual. The flamingos, exhausted from their ordeal, fell fast asleep to the mesmerizing symphony of nocturnal amphibians.
The next day, they woke huddled closely together in their cozy nest within the cattail brush. A silent fog drifted slowly across the water and fine mist chilled the air. Hungry, they ventured back to the pond where they found a swarm of minnows. Cold water couldn’t deter them from plunging their long necks and beaks below to ingest as many as possible. Pausing at the edge of the pond, through the misty air, they noticed a few more flamingos standing on the other side. They cautiously made their way around the muddy edges of the pond, and as they got closer, they recognized the others. Greeting one another with excited honking, they quickly merged into a mini flock of four. Within hours, a few more flamingos emerged from the reeds, and the flock grew. Days turned into weeks, and weeks to months. Within a year, the flamingos had acclimated to the new environment. The colder climate and diet of minnows was gradually fading their feathers to a soft pale peach and the new feathers were thicker and tougher. The pair began taking turns feeding, and before long, there was a single perfect egg in their nest at the edge of the pond.
Flamingo Facts:
FEASTS: In Roman times, flamingos were considered a status of wealth and class, so it’s no wonder why upper-class Romans enjoyed them at banquets and feasts. In particular, were the tongues. Flamingo tongues were highly enjoyed by well-to-do Romans and were the highlight of any fancy dinner.
LIFE CYCLE: Flamingos are generally long lived, surviving for an average of 20 to 30 years, though some have lived up to 50 years.
FLIGHT: Flamingos travel at approximately 35 miles per hour (mph) over short distances, but they can fly upwards of 40 mph during long-distance flights with supportive winds. Flamingos have been observed flying at altitudes of almost 20,000 feet (in birds moving across sites in South America’s Andes). How high flamingos fly is largely dependent on the direction and strength of the wind, as well as the birds’ destination. When flamingos fly over the ocean, they tend to fly lower than they do when over ground.
Lost Art of Mystery 