Pelicans and Cormorants

It’s the time of year when pelicans and cormorants constantly crisscross the sky during my morning beach walks. And after observing them for much of the summer, I’ve noticed some stark contrasts in the ways that each bird approaches flight. 

Pelicans fly casually and with grace, not hurried or rushed. Occasionally gliding for extended stretches. They fly in loose, wandering patterns that inevitably circle back around into formation and on toward the potentialities waiting in the distance. It’s as if their wings display an appreciation for the opportunity to soar and an understanding of the value that exists in such moments. I grow at ease observing them. 

Whereas cormorants fly tight and tense, quickly and jittery. Ceaselessly flailing, they flutter in rigid clusters with an aversion to variance. As if the gift of flight might be stolen from them at any moment. Their troubled flapping, a harbinger of unrest somewhere on the horizon. I sink into anxiousness watching them. 

Whenever, if ever, I am graced with the opportunity to soar again, I sincerely hope to apply what I’ve gleaned from watching pelicans fly.