Page 61 of Just for the Cameras
We walk back out to the exhibit, where I open the gate for both of us. Last time he was here, I went over safety with him around the birds, but this will be his first time in the exhibit.
I shut the gate behind me, locking it, and then bring him to the edge of the bushes, giving the flamingos some room. Stiff and uncomfortable, he shifts next to me, clearly out of his element, which amuses me slightly as I think about how out of my element I was yesterday.
When one of the flamingos starts moving toward us, Graydon takes a step back. “What’s that fuck doing?”
“Can you not call the flamingos ‘fucks’?” I ask as he moves behind me.
“Well, the fuck has a look in its eye.”
“Once again, do not call them ‘fucks,’ and people are watching.”
I look over at the windows and flamingo outlooks. People are holding up their phones, taking pictures and videos.
“Why the fuck are we doing this?” he asks.
“Because you need to get comfortable with them.” Lester, one of the more curious flamingos, walks up to us, and I hand Graydon some pellets. “Here, toss Lester a pellet.”
It’s barely out of my hand before Graydon is tossing it on the ground behind Lester and causing him to turn away.
“This is fucked up. I don’t want to be in here with food and them stampeding toward us.”
“They’re not stampeding toward us. They’re barely interested.” I step to the side and toss some more pellets before pulling my phone out of my back pocket. “Now squat down so I can take a picture with you and the flamingos.”
“I’m good.”
Growing frustrated, I turn toward him and quietly say, “Graydon, this is for social media. Now squat down and take a picture.”
“No.”
“Graydon,” I say sternly. “I did your stupid workout, now you take a freaking picture with the flamingos.”
He stares down at me.
I stare up at him.
And after a few seconds of silence, he rolls his eyes and then squats down a few feet from the flamingos, and I snap a picture of him looking out toward them like he’s studying their beautiful feathers and quirky long legs. I stare down at the picture for a moment, taking in the juxtaposition of the imposing man with impenetrable muscles wrapping and weaving over his body next to the delicate pink feathers of an innocent flamingo. A very odd pairing, but also…it sort of works.
“Okay, can we leave?” he asks while standing.
“You realize you’re scared of birds, right?”
“Have you seen the size of their beaks? You’re just doing this to get back at me for yesterday.”
“No, I’m just trying to educate you.”
“You have yet to say anything educational since being in here.”
“I haven’t had the chance because you can’t stop crying about being next to them,” I shoot back.
His eyes narrow before he says, “Fine, educate me.”
A smile tugs at my lips because I find it so much fun to talk about the birds that bring me joy and to educate people who might think they’re not worth anything.
“I’m glad you asked. There are six species of flamingos globally. The greater flamingo, lesser flamingo, American flamingo, Andean flamingo, Puna flamingo, and Chilean flamingo, which is what we have here at the zoo. Four of them are found here in the Americas, while the other two reside in Asia and Europe. Currently, there are no more than two hundred thousand Chilean flamingos left in the wild, making them nearly threatened as a species. This is due to human disruption of their environment.” Graydon glances out at them, taking them in. “They’re very smart, they have great hearing, and although their eyesight suffers at night like an octogenarian’s, they have great color perception, allowing them to recognize me from someone in the crowd.”
He nods. “And their pinkness is from their food, right?”
Oh my God, look at him showing an ounce of interest.
