I didn't really care about flamingos at all for most of my life until my sister-in-law Pam gave me a couple for Christmas quite a few years back as a joke we shared due to my living in a trailer house. I planted them at my mailbox where they became a landmark for UPS drivers, neighbors, and visitors from far away places (Missouri). Over time, the joke became a motif, a motif became a fond signature, and by the time I flew to Bonaire, the signature had become a passion.
It's the anti-Montana ranchwife thing, these pink birds.
To be situationally correct, I should be relating to sage hens, sharp tail grouse, meadow larks, or even Canadian geese, but instead the flamingos capture my heart and imagination. Perhaps it's because I've always felt born out of place here, so flamingos on the prairie are a symbol of that.
Or they're just stinking cool.
I mean, REALLY!
BIG PINK BIRDS!
Who doesn't think they're cool?!?
(My friend Willa McGillicuddy who lives in Florida doesn't think they're cool. She thinks they're mundane. But once I explained to her that it would be like a Floridian having moose as a passion, she comprehended immediately.)
(And now I've gotta send her some tacky Montana moose mugs. She'll be groovily out of place in the swamp and we'll all be happy.)
One of the big pulls for this job was to see flamingos in real life.
And one day...
I did.
These were my first flamingos.
I was driving home from grocery shopping in Kralendijk on the day after we flew into Bonaire and casually looked to the northeast as I drove past some lagoons near the highway, saw some pink things on the water and realized
THOSE ARE FLAMINGOS!!!
Blessedly, there was a pullout right there for people who wanted to go to the marina on the west side of the road, so I slammed on my brakes and whipped in.
(Even if there hadn't been, the people on Bonaire would have given me a few minutes to take a picture, given a gentle one-tap honk, and away we would have gone.)
This was as close as I thought I'd get, and it was good enough.
My heart was happy.
A couple days later, I had the opportunity to go with the group on a dive session/island tour, and we ventured into the wildlife sanctuary on the north part of Bonaire.
And THERE, I saw flamingos close enough to make me have tears in my eyes and take about 200 pictures.
Here they are...
Soak it up.
Their knees bend backward.
I couldn't stop watching that!
I'm getting all weirdly sad and flamingo-homesick posting these pictures. (Perhaps because it's COLD and threatening to snow here right now.)
But flamingos weren't the only birds on Bonaire.
There were parrots (which are called "parakeets", no matter what they looked like).
Let me give you this description of the birds near our villa:
the doves would be the white collar office people who quietly commuted to work every day and spoke in genteel tones. The parrots, however, would be the rednecks of the neighborhood. They wore loud colors, said derogatory things about each others mamas while shoving each other around in the trees, and were generally bad mannered but in a good natured sort of way.
I hung out with them every morning after my run, over coffee, but whenever I tried to take their pictures they acted as though I was going to post the images on "Parrots of Walmart" and flew off as fast as they could.
Here are some parrot pictures I managed to quickly snap during my outings on the island...
This picture just illustrates their form and habitat without the distraction of color...
(I'm a sucker for black and white, especially in silhouettes.)
This fellow was one of the boys in the 'hood. He didn't mean to settle long enough for me to snap his picture, but once I did, he hung around for a little while, chewing on berries.
Wild parakeet near 1000 Steps dive site. They're hard to pick out because their foliage matches the trees!
My boy from the 'hood; he figured out I was doing the ugly American paparazzi thing and left. (But dig those pretty coverts!)
And then there were the pelicans...
They were fond of showing off during sunsets, dancing and diving in the brilliant ending to each day.
Lastly and leastly were the little foragers of the beaches, tiny piper birds who made me smile with their industrious picking of scruff.
He looks like the flotsam and jetsam he's picking through, doesn't he?
I almost missed him for the good camouflage!
Their delicacy charms me, always.
I missed so many Bonaire birds! But perhaps I will return and they'll be in the sequel.
