Five years before this trip, I wrote an essay and submitted it to our local fish wrap. No response.

December, 1994

A pelican flew through a thin fog, altitude eight inches, his wing tips curving toward but not quite touching the glassy bay. Carried by momentum and assisted by the compression of air between his wings and the water, this portion of the flight cost only the energy to keep his wings extended. He ascended, flapped twice, lowered his feet, flapped again and stuck the landing on top of a pole six inches in diameter and eight feet above the surface.

Overhead, a Boeing 737 departed Orange County airport. The pilot, following the demands of residents, reduced power shortly after takeoff in a feeble attempt to reduce the roar emanating from his complicated machine. There has been a spate of plane crashes lately in which something in the combination of mechanical, electronic and human systems didn't hold up its end. These are young systems and have a long way to evolve before they can match the accuracy and elegance in the pelican's landing. The pelican, after all, has been under development for millions of years.