It seems these days (in a way that I'm sure is not ironic at all) that if a bird is flying low over my head, it's a vulture. They circle me when I'm out taking pictures. They sit on my condo building. They sit on top of the church. They are, apparently, without shame.
But this morning, as I unlocked my car door and heard the flap of wings overhead, I was surprised to see a white pelican, black tipped wings lazily pushing it through the sky.
In a month or two, there will be scores of white pelicans. I can't wait for that day. But today this lone pelican was special. I had my camera with me, but I was too transfixed to bother turning it on.
I got in the car and drove away.
I caught up with the pelican a mile down the road. He was circling, again slowly, over a retention pond and I could have pulled over to take its picture. I knew if I didn't, I wouldn't see him again. But I had to get to the pharmacy and the traffic was bad.
We always have excuses, don't we?
A half hour later, I passed the retention pond again on the way home and the white pelican was gone. But this time, I decided to take a detour and head to the small park tucked away in a development with large signs warning off anyone who isn't a resident or guest.
I define "guest" rather broadly.
Again, the white pelican had vanished. It was not in the water, the two small ponds that surround the playground. But there were other birds, ducks and ibises and great egrets, roseated spoonbills, and, of course, the black vulture. There was a turtle perched on a submerged stump and there was a gulf fritillary. I took pictures of them all--well, everything but the vultures.
And then, when I drove into the church parking lot just now, I saw a monarch and they are so relatively rare to me that I slammed on the brakes, rolled down the window and used every last bit of my zoom to get its picture.
Where did I see Jesus today?
In all the things worth stopping for.
But this morning, as I unlocked my car door and heard the flap of wings overhead, I was surprised to see a white pelican, black tipped wings lazily pushing it through the sky.
In a month or two, there will be scores of white pelicans. I can't wait for that day. But today this lone pelican was special. I had my camera with me, but I was too transfixed to bother turning it on.
I got in the car and drove away.
I caught up with the pelican a mile down the road. He was circling, again slowly, over a retention pond and I could have pulled over to take its picture. I knew if I didn't, I wouldn't see him again. But I had to get to the pharmacy and the traffic was bad.
We always have excuses, don't we?
A half hour later, I passed the retention pond again on the way home and the white pelican was gone. But this time, I decided to take a detour and head to the small park tucked away in a development with large signs warning off anyone who isn't a resident or guest.
I define "guest" rather broadly.
Again, the white pelican had vanished. It was not in the water, the two small ponds that surround the playground. But there were other birds, ducks and ibises and great egrets, roseated spoonbills, and, of course, the black vulture. There was a turtle perched on a submerged stump and there was a gulf fritillary. I took pictures of them all--well, everything but the vultures.
And then, when I drove into the church parking lot just now, I saw a monarch and they are so relatively rare to me that I slammed on the brakes, rolled down the window and used every last bit of my zoom to get its picture.
Where did I see Jesus today?
In all the things worth stopping for.
Comments
Post a Comment