The Last Flamingo

One mystery series that I have enjoyed over the years is about a married couple of archaeologists and their adventures in late nineteenth-, early twentieth-century Egypt. They are written by Elizabeth Peters (actually Barbara Mertz, a graduate of the famous Oriental Institute at the University of Chicago). One of the books is The Last Camel Died at Noon.

I thought of that this afternoon when I looked out back where the line of flamingos normally guards the bird feeders. This past week most of them were buried under the snow, but there were still a few necks and heads sticking up this morning.

The last flamingo disappeared at 2:00 this afternoon.

Admittedly that does not have the same dire implications that the loss of the last camel had for the desert-stranded characters in the book. It is, nonetheless, a bit dispiriting. And I can only imagine how the flamingos feel about it.

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Those flamingos in the snow in the picture are not ours, but then they aren't buried yet either. They may still have time to save themselves. Fly away, flamingos! Fly away!