One of my earliest childhood memories is of a flock of pelicans at a harbor in St. Petersburg, Florida. Since we lived in Cincinnati, that was my first exposure to these exotic and, in my recollection, comical creatures. Some were dozing on the dock while others gathered in the harbor waters, patiently waiting for handouts from the fishermen.
Today, I know that these seemingly lazy and odd-looking birds are among the most skilled and graceful residents of our southern coasts. Equipped with a seven-foot wingspan, brown pelicans cruise the beaches and bays with an effortless pattern of flaps and glides, often travelling just above the waves. At times, they gather near favored fishing sites, zeroing in on large schools of fish; circling above the prey, they dive toward the surface with a twisting, streamlined profile that belies their awkward, onshore appearance. Finally, their pendulous, lower bill serves as a natural net, scooping up fish as they knife into the sea.
Fortunately, there is a large population of brown pelicans around Longboat Key and I never tire of watching them. My fascination with this coastal bird, established at a young age, is sustained by both its entertaining antics and its impressive, natural talents. Any visit to the Florida coast would seem incomplete without their company.
