Wednesday, April 1, 2009












Here's a spectacular photo of a pelican fellow--note the "breeding nose bump"--by Harvey Schmidt of Creighton, Sk.


Below you will find a pelican inspired poem by Saskatchewan poet, Gerald Hill, author of several books of poetry, the most recent being My Human Comedy. His newest book, 14 Tractors, has just been released and will be launched in Regina this Friday.





Pelican Air


pelican real:
the kind of evening you’d think is November
that chill but brighter
more like what it really is
June third
and pelicans on the water

flocks of twenty-four
scattered though the country like
hands tossed over an edge








enter the pelican:
a low glider belly to belly
on top of the river
and on through reflections of the trees

rise and veer left at the bridge about a half-mile away








pelican error:
it’s usually something other than a pelican
a towel on a hotel windowsill
a white hat in a car beyond the trees

sooner or later the Bird Club will spot one
that is really one
returning on its wide arc to the sand







pelican payday:
the day they hit Saskatoon and slosh
water around closing
their bills on bits of fish
thousands of vectors
swimming into range







pelican science:
slick with the look of hairlines over the weir
the water must mean something
if it seats you long enough







pelican happenstance:
two cars stop
hooded figures step out
confer and tussle

their commotion matches
the modest roar of water
the pelicans appear to sleep
lost in stillness
floating on the current below the weir

a shout and one figures loses
its balance and falls
hitting the water as a squawk
of pelicans rising










pelican lore:
young boys and girls ride the backs of pelicans
to and from their rites of initiation the adventure
involves a haircut (the ritual scissor)
and body wounds (the ritual stone)










pelican companion:
in a future life I’ll hip-wade
to fish for what happens
before and after water falls










our fighting pelicans:
symmetrical as crossed swords
pelicans line the air like water
unison winging I paint black
fringes on my upper arms and salute
the mighty Pel’







exit the pelican:
old pelicans die
in the sanctuary marshes
overgrown