Starting the New Year with Pelicans

Not intending any offense to Granite Staters, I must say that New Hampshire has never, in the almost-a-decade since I’ve lived here, looked so grey (and I don’t mean the average age of residents, although that’s probably true, too) as it did this past week.

Heading to school one morning, I saw one edge of Turkey Pond looking like this.

It’s peaceful enough in its drabness, and there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with New England being dressed in leaden skies in early January, except that the delivery of more snow would be nice.

But since I’d just arrived home from this…..

….you might understand why I felt a little, well, discombobulated.

Our family rarely takes real vacations, especially the tropical kind, but we broke tradition after Christmas and spent a whole week on the Northwest coast of Puerto Rico. Can you almost feel the warm sunshine and soft breezes, hear the waves lapping on the shore and maybe even the occasional car going by with Bad Bunny’s thumping reggaeton blasting out the windows? It was all glorious.

Since my business here is always about contrasts, I’m going to go beyond that initial one portrayed in the photos — and move on to another one involving one particular kind of bird as it’s been depicted and as it actually is in real life.

First, though, a bit about the people. The beaches weren’t crowded with tourists; in most places, there was plenty of space to spread out on the sand. Most of the other humans around us were probably Puerto Ricans (their Spanish was excellent, and their dogs well-behaved), and we were struck by how accessible the Atlantic coast is, for everyone: just pull your car on over and park on the side of the road. We hardly saw a “Private Property” sign anywhere.

The bird life, particularly around the pools formed by craggy formations of volcanic rock that make a buffer against the big waves, was fascinating. Here are two creatures Rob and I watched for a long while, as they walked gingerly around, inspecting crevices and occasionally jabbing at some kind of organisms with those long beaks: heads way down, way up again. I think the first is a Little Egret and the second is Little Blue Heron (no “Great” distinction for either one, the better for them to move around without fuss). We see similar birds on riverbanks here in New Hampshire, actually.

A few days later, on a beach a short distance away, we got another treat: a gang of Brown Pelicans was hanging out on a big rock, acting both collectively and individually. We couldn’t get up close to them, but we could still observe.

No delicate walking around and prodding here; these birds rested for a while and then took off, soaring in all directions (show-offs) with their big wingspans and then plummeting straight down to hit the water and find their prize fish, or if not, elevating themselves again right away to try again. Maybe you’ve seen other pelicans elsewhere, say in parts of Florida? They paid no mind to the loungers on the beach and in the water, and vice-versa, mostly. The whole scene demonstrated peaceful co-existence.

As I stood there transfixed by one of Nature’s dramas, surrounded by sun and sand and crystal clear water, my vacationing but ever-alert husband kindly reminded me that pelicans have often been portrayed as a Christian symbol of self-sacrifice.

Now that tidbit changed the mood just a little bit.

In fact, soon after we returned stateside, he came upon this stained glass window at a church and sent it to me. At first glance, we see a mother caring for her brood in a nest; but if you look closely, you can see a splotch of blood on her chest. Why? Because, way back in the time of the Early Church in Europe, people believed that a pelican would actually pierce her own breast in order to give her own blood to her young (who presumably were really, really hungry). YECH! This act, of course, was supposed to remind the faithful of how Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice, for all of us.

Here’s somebody called “The Religion Teacher” giving a short lesson on the topic. You’ll notice that he doesn’t explain in any detail why they chose the poor pelican as a demonstration creature.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGrvXoBr47I&t=8s

I knew before I even checked it out that the validity of the claim would be suspect. Sure enough, mother birds in this species do the sensible thing in regurgitating food for their little ones, but injuring themselves? No way. In Puerto Rico, I didn’t see any interactions with babies at all, but my brief time watching the long-beaked creatures in their natural habitat made me forever loyal to them — as they really are. Fortunately, within the Church, the old belief has quietly fallen off, although the art work and other reminders are definitely still out there.

And then there’s the world of sports. Right down the road, St. Paul’s School’s teams are called The Pelicans, and I’m guessing that has its roots in Church history, because the actual birds don’t live around here. Switching over to the N.B.A., however, I bet the Pelicans of New Orleans came to their name, shall we say, more legitimately, that is to say, in alliance with Nature? Still, Celtics fans are happy when our guys defeat them.

Speaking of happy, here’s wishing you all a very Happy New Year! And may creatures everywhere — including each one of us — thrive in being just who they really are, not who anyone else wants them to be.