ONE FLAMINGO'S FINAL JOURNEY

LAKE BOGORIA, KENYA, AFRICA

Nikon F4s, Sigma 70-300mm Lens, Fujichrome Velvia 50 Film

For this month's photo, I chose to focus on an image that holds great personal significance for me. While visiting Kenya's Lake Bogoria in July of 1999, I was deeply impacted by a series of events that unfolded before me on what had, to that point simply been another day spent photographing wildlife while on safari with friends. The following is the story of that event and is my tribute to a beautiful, but all too ephemeral creature, who on that fateful day gave me much more than an image!

Winding our way across slithering roads of super-heated asphalt, my friends and I leave Nakuru behind, embarking upon a decent deep into the recesses of time. As the ancient escarpment of the Great Rift Valley unfolds before us, I find it impossible that anything would thrive here. The land is gnarled and warped from baking in the blistering rays of time's oppressive heat. Even the slender termite hills, with their contorted chimneys, appear to scream for any relief from the suffocating conditions.

Oddly though life does flourish, in the form of thousands of pink flamingos. They inhabit the marooned oasis of Lake Bogoria, but her waters are deceptive. It was at these waters that I would realize how deceptive, and through that reality gain a new perspective on the fragility of life and the perseverance of spirit.

………………………………….

I stood near the lake's hostile thermal springs that encrust its banks in thick salt. Slipping into a trance born of shimmering waves of pink, I faded into myself. An abrupt voice broke the trance. My husband was yelling to me. What was he trying to say? Suddenly I shot back to reality and the horror became real. In front of me I saw her desperate floundering in the boiling caldron of the spring. One flamingo, in her youth, had made a terrible error in judgment.

Rushing over, I realized this would surely be her grave without intervention. Every second seemed to be sucking the life from her already fragile body. I reached into the scalding steam, and placing my fingers gently around the exposed portion of her neck, plucked the flamingo from her hell. I could feel the heat streaming from her delicate pink feathers as I laid her on the ground. I sat down next to her as she lifted her head and weakly flapped her wings. She was so frail.

Again lifting her to my side, I carried her to the group. She bravely held her head high throughout the whole of the brief passage. Holding her between my palms I could feel her labored breaths pulsing through my fingers as her chest heaved. Her legs were locked in burns - paralyzed by vengeful waters.

Once again I gently placed the frail flamingo on the ground, and once more I sat next to her. I tried to be of some comfort. I looked into her eyes as mine welled up with tears, and with each slowing breath could see the life slipping from her body, draining away.

In the end it was not meant to be. The trauma had been far too great. Feeling helpless to do anything more, I spent our final moments together trying to soothe her as I tenderly caressed her head. I wanted her to be at peace. Letting me know she was all right, she opened her long bill and uttered a feeble noise. Peep. It would be her last.

With that she lowered her head in rest, accepting a little help from my hand, and gave up her struggle. I again slipped into a trance, hypnotized by eyes of deep fuscia with radiating rings of golden yellow - they were so full of life…pupils now dilated, her eyes fell blank. She was gone.

Looking at this incredible creature that god saw fit to place on this earth, it felt right to have been the one chosen to see her through her final journey. Absorbing the reality of all that had just unfolded, I lifted the flamingo to my side one last time. Placing her safely under a tree in the cool shade of the unforgiving landscape that claimed her, I concealed her broken body with broken branches. Her life had come full circle. With a final look, I turned and faded back into myself.

………………………………….

On the two-hour drive back to Nakuru, I sit in my own private silence. Reflecting on my experience, I digress. Bogoria's unforgiving land had stolen a life today and with it, a piece of my soul - and there it will remain under those broken branches, left to the recesses of time.

Friday, July 30^th, 1999