I was on a saltwater beach with my brother. We were kids, maybe 10 or 11. There was a pile of old lobster traps on the beach, belonging to our lobsterman father. The traps looked more like rusted animal crates. I heard a loud squawking, and trapped in the crates, accidentally, were a seagull and something that looked like a pelican. I knew our lobsterman father would be angry with me for doing it, but I needed to free the birds. As I walked toward the crates, I felt the familiar confidence I feel when called to help an animal. The pelican was messed up somehow – another familiar feeling, this one from childhood, when a creature is somehow “not right”, like the time there was a rabid fox in the woods.
As the pelican flew away, I realized that it was made of different colored raspberries – red, yellow, orange. The berries were shining in the sun, as the bird looked down at me with a look of gratitude.