subject: When There Were Pelicans [print this page] Once, every chosen perch at Stearn's Wharf was decorated with monarchs of the sea, snatching the catch of unsuspecting fisherman, as visitors would exclaim "Oh my God, did you see that!" GLUP!
Suddenly, two-pound mackerels swallowed whole by these walking and flying tummies of the sea.
When there were pelicans they witnessed the secrets of fishermen; the chumming of bait off the pier, the freezing of small cubes of water locking within them baited hooks attached to a line, their weight allowing the forceful cast as far as the eye could see and landing on the oceans surface, where the ice would immediately melt - the baited hook then slowly drifting down to the ocean's floor.
When there were pelicans, they would waddle among the children, little girls innocently squealing about the fish that had been caught, "Mommy, Mommy, why are the fish not moving?" Nervous mothers would explain, "Oh, they're just sleeping honey," While fishermen, standing near-by would be snickering "Yeah, and they'll be fryin in about two hours."
When there were pelicans, enthusiastic youngsters would hook their first catch, they would forcibly hoist their manna from the sea triggering a mad rush between men and an army of open beaks as the fish would slide and twitch with every bounce until one would win, the youngster, the pelican, or the fish escaping between slats of wood.
When there were pelicans the shore was alive, as these guardians of a healthy sea would sail just above the waves in formations of graceful wings. They were silent witnesses of a changing time when the sun was less intense in its yellow hue searing us now with a blasting white solar flare.
When there were pelicans, David and his father were blessed by the watchful eyes and open bills at the ready, as these 2 fishermen caught well over 100 mackerel on one particular and short afternoon. And on the following day John and his father started out with rod and reel in hand, with a moment of disobedience John places his pole down for a moment while a 2 lb. Mackerel strikes and then flees with hook, line, sinker, rod, and reel. Father keeps his cool and simply interviews all witnesses as to where the pole and reel might be. A Herculean effort by the boy's father yields a miraculous retrieval of the fishing pole with a 2 lb mackerel still on the line for his son to reel in his first huge catch.
When there were pelicans the ocean spray was alive and healthy, for bear-footed walks on a sandy shore, teeming with sand crabs that would tickle your feet with each receding wave, cool breezes, striking fish with struggles heavily weighted, all the while these moments frozen in time, for the sake of memories needed when happiness's dwindle as they often do.
When there were pelicans they stood at attention on walkways and rooftops along the wharf, for they were truly monarchs of Stearn's sea and shore.
