Wyoming Photographer and Blogger: A limerick for a lifetime

“A wonderful bird is the Pelican.
His beak can hold more than his belly can.
He can hold in his beak
Enough food for a week!
But I’ll be darned if I know how the hellican?”

― Dixon Lanier Merritt

My dad used to recite this limerick to me anytime a pelican came up in conversation.  It didn’t matter if I was six or 30, if we were talking about pelicans, at least one line would be spoken with his usual jolly good humor.

As a teenager, I’d roll my eyes at him.  When I was older, I’d help him finish the limerick, both of us chiming together to form one loud “how the hellican?”

I think anyone that knew my father for any length of time probably heard that limerick more than once.

Now, I can’t see a pelican and not think of my father.  It’s a wonderful gift, really.  A visual reminder of a man I loved, cherished and revered.

A few weeks ago, a boy I dated in high school admitted that he was terrified of my dad, until he got to know him.  But now that he’s a father with kids of his own, he said my dad was one of the men he tried to emulate as an adult.  It brought tears to my eyes.

I try to emulate him, as well.  My dad was an active member of our community.  He sat on boards, worked the clock at sporting events, announced rodeos and horse shows and helped in a thousand ways, big and small.

“Change is made by the folks who show up,” he used to tell me.

So I show up.  We go to local sporting events, I participate in the Southeast Booster Club and I volunteered for a committee in our school district.  I’ve got no real interest in politics but I do want to be a part of this place we call home.

A while back, I decided I wanted to capture an image of a pelican with my camera so that I could frame it and hang it in my office as a reminder of my father.  Today, I finally have a shot that I love.

I spent my morning hiding in the cottonwoods along Springer Lake, waiting for a group of three pelicans to cruise close enough for my lens.  It would have been an amazing morning anyway…I watched grebes, cormorants and coots, heard the squawk of herons, watched fish jump and played peek-a-boo with a killdeer.  Finally, my patience was rewarded and the trailing pelican cruised right past my hiding spot.

Click. Click. Click.

It’s a memory I’ll cherish forever…sitting on the bank, watching pelicans and thinking of my dad.