The Pelican

The sun glints off the ocean waves as they ripple towards the shore again and again in their careful mechanism. A seagull chirps to announce the morning. Fishing boats bob softly up and down tethered to the worn wooden pier. The breeze is sharp and crisp, only interrupted when a fisherman's cough bursts out: a cloud of hot air breaking the silence. Buoys bob above the surface of the cold waters, some of them supporting gulls and the occasional Pelican. The Pelican stands tall and proud on the red float, for he knows he is a creature to behold. He catches a tiny glint in the ocean, a bright ray of sun glaring off of what he assumes to be a juicy fish. Breakfast, at last. With a swift and strong movement of his wings he swoops over to the sparkle and opens his giant bill wide, scooping up his food. He takes it back to his buoy before attempting to swallow. The contents of his bill cut into the flesh of his throat viscously as the muscles force it down; and it was clear that what the Pelican thought was fish, was not actually fish at all. Instead sharp plastic shards and bottle-tops were what had been collected in his bill. The Pelican already had some scars and wounds in his poor neck, as this most certainly wasn't the first time this had happened. It was getting harder and harder for the bird to differentiate its food from these hazards. He knew who was to blame; his eyes scanned the pier, the beach, the storefront – where the humans move in packs.

He often watched as they mooched about, dropping everything from ice cream cones to used baby nappies to hats and shoes. There they'd stay; a distant memory of a weekend get-a-way at the beach. Crisp packets tumbled in the wind, lollipop sticks made up most of the top layer of the pebbly beach and crabs carried various forms of litter to their hideaways. Plastic was simply a part of life here for the creatures of the beach. The waves often churned up litter from hundreds of miles away, as if what was already here just wasn't enough. The Pelican moved its steady gaze to the other birds and noticed the cuts and scars on their necks too, and on the shore he even spotted a pigeon going about its day with a ring of a plastic six-pack wedged tightly over its neck. It gets worse though; the Pelican finally laid eyes on the disturbing scene of a seagull, washed ashore, its legs tangled and bound tightly together by orange netting. In places the netting was red with blood. The body of the gull lay limp on the pebbles; one can only imagine how it ended up here in this sorry state.

A bubble of anger rose its way into The Pelicans heart. How dare these humans mistreat earth's animals like this? Enough was enough – no longer would they be allowed to mooch and gather and carelessly throw their waste into the ocean. It was time the wildlife fought back for their livelihoods, for they deserved their health at the very least. The Pelican took off and circled the sky, gathering as many of his feathered friends as he could to spread the word of his thoughts of humans. The sounds of the sky echoed throughout the beach town: squawks, screeches and angry calls chattered as the birds flew in circles over the ocean, their pack getting larger and larger as the word spread. Even the humans on the shore had noticed the change in atmosphere as they covered their ears to protect them from the loud bird calls. They talked in whispers, concerned for the strange occurrence – and they had every right to be frightened.

Dark storm clouds filled the sky as the day progressed; only adding to the murky atmosphere looming over the pier. Fishermen were out at sea pretending not to notice the birds or the weather, nets full of fish and crustaceans being towed over the edges of the boat taking them out of reach of the hungry birds. The Pelican watched these men in disgust. The anger inside his heart burned even brighter with every passing second, with every fish tugged into the boat fighting for its life. A few spats of rain fell from the sky. The droplets were heavy, bulging with water as they fell and burst onto the cold pier. A few humans were still outside persevering with their days work, but many had scurried back to their warm and cosy hideaways. The Pelican decided that if action was going to be taken, then it must be taken now. With the first thunderclap of the storm, the order was released. A screech sounded from the mass of birds above, far louder than the rest. It bounced off of buildings and radiated throughout the town. Not a second had gone by before birds of all kinds were plummeting down from the dark sky and scooping plastic fragments and packaging up in their beaks. The Pelican watched as the first wave rocketed through the town sprinkling a storm of trash over the people. The humans began to notice. Screams of women and children could be heard and men looked fearfully at the sky above, images of falling waste reflecting in their terrified eyes. It was working just as planned, and as The Pelican went to call for the second wave he caught a glimpse of the deceased gull in the orange net lying on the pebbles – and he knew that he had made the right decision. His bravery had served him well; nothing could justify the careless actions of the human race.