pelican

We were in our living space, preparing to go out, and I was looking out the window. I saw a huge bird, a pelican, circle past the window. I noticed how enormous it was, how wide its wing span. From inside, I could see its underbelly, the vast white and black feathered space of the bird’s wings and torso. I commented to B that a bird outside, flying past the window, looked like a dinosaur of sorts, and we went out onto the balcony to have a better look. The pelican flew down and landed on the balcony floor; its head reached up to my shoulders. The bird edged toward me and clasped my forearm in its beak. The bird’s grip was extraordinarily strong and I was trapped. I slowly walked in a tight circle, trying to gently wriggle my arm from its long beak. Somehow, I could hear the bird’s thoughts: it was considering the best way to attack and kill me. It was thinking of piercing my skull through the temporal lobe. B had gone back inside to find something with which to fend off the bird. As we circled, I took the opportunity to step back inside the glass door and slide it quickly closed, forcing the pelican to let go of my arm and shutting it outside.