'Twas the morning before Labor Day, when all thro' the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sandcastles danc'd in their heads,
And Bob in his 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a mid-summer's nap-
When out on the Bay there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a flock of pelicans, so close and so clear,
More rapid than eagles those pelicans they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and wished I knew them by name.
Okay, I do get extremely excited when the pelicans arrive each September. There is nothing more fun than watching them filling up at this bountiful buffet before completing their migration to points south. The pelicans are so awkward and gregarious as they dive for food. Sometimes they float along with the tide and nod as they go by, giving the impression they are simply good-natured visitors who stopped by for a long holiday.
And then in November as if they heard a whistle,
Away they will all fly, like the down of a thistle:
But then I’ll exclaim, as they wing out of sight-
Happy Trails to all, and to all a good flight!
Note: Thanks to Clement C. Moore who helped with this poem and the returning pelicans for inspiration.