The bird was a flamingo.
That's right, a flamingo. Most of you will have laughed, others will question whether this is right, and the rest, well I don't know. I'm not psychic.
There are many fierce strong birds out there... Eagles, Hawks.
And there are many graceful birds... Swans, doves.
So many, that all would assume would have an impact in this story.
But in this one, it was a flamingo.
The greatest flamingo that ever lived.
This flamingo started life in Africa.
It was just an ordinary, run of the mill pink flamingo.
Until one night, while all the other flamingos were sleeping. This one stayed awake.
It looked out over the lake, over the grasslands, over the sand and far out into the distance.
It looked. For hours it stood there looking. The stars shone, the moon illuminated the land, the slow ripples on the lake created calm sounds. And it watched.
It watched until the dawn broke.
And when the dawn did break, it flew.
Flamingos aren't known for there excellent flying skills.
But boy did this one fly.
It flew for days. Never landing, never resting.
It traveled hundreds of miles.
And by the fifth day of flying, it finally landed on a beach somewhere.
The beach is not known. Nor is the island it is on.
But there the flamingo chose to land.
How did the flamingo survive? No one knows.
No one knows what it ate, what it drank or where it slept.
Not much is known about the flamingos life on that island.
And that is the way things are sometimes.
You can't always know everything about a life. Whether it is human, animal, or something else.
Sometimes, the things that aren't known, are more valuable than what is.
But we do know one piece of information about its life on the island.
It wasn't alone.
