Once upon a time when it was very hot, my brother, his
wife and I went fishing just below Puertocitos, Mexico.
It was too hot for humans but my brother’s logic
was something along the lines of; this is the only time
that I can take off. It was going to be short trip. We
were fishing from the rocky shoreline and by noon we had
about a metric ton of triggerfish in our possession.
decide to leave our fishing gear baited and in the water
while we return to camp for lunch, this seldom works for
me. We have an excellent 5 course lunch followed by a
nap of unknown length. While on this trip I found a short
beach chair that needed to be rewoven, clearly written
on one of the straps that was not broken, the name Weaver.
I still have this chair and now it is fully outfitted
with new straps.
After the nap we head back to where we had left our fishing
gear. There was no action until we became visible at the
waters edge then the pelican that was hopelessly tangled
in monofilament tried to move away. It is near high tide
and the water is within 4 feet of the surface that we
are fishing from. I think that I go into the water first
but even in the hobbled state the pelican can swim faster
than I can. My brother comes in and we surround the pelican.
We can’t get the pelican freed from the fishing
line in the water so we take the bird to shore. Neither
of us is familiar with the arsenal that a pelican might
have at their disposal because pelicans did not visit
Arkansas regularly. We do know that the bird is about
25% pecker and it will hit the water at a high rate of
speed. Harold gets out of the water first and the bird
is transferred to him always making sure we have a firm
grip on the pecker.
After the bird is free Harold wants a picture of him
holding the pelican. This is done and Harold says “you
take the bird and we will get your picture”. After
that is finished Harold says throw the bird up and we
will get the final picture. The bird seems to be very
calm so I say let me simply set it down and see what happens.
In this endeavor at some point I must release my grip
on that awesome looking instrument. Harold’s advice
was to turn my head away as it might try to peck out my
As soon as it is released the bastard bites my arm with
a force of about half an ounce. Then it just stood there
and looked me directly in the eye. I am sure it was thinking,
hey dude you saved me now you have to feed me for the
rest of my life. Fortunately the tide was coming in and
after we stood there for several minutes a big wave broke
over the surface of the rocks and the pelican went swimming.
I wonder about Pedro’s memory span.