THE ISLET OF THE SCARLET IBIS

There is an island. Or rather, there is a cluster of islands of which this one is special. With its tall, leafy trees packed densely, the island looks like a green mound risen out of the water. Or the back of a giant bird. This is what you see if you arrive there on a late afternoon, the sun still high but cool. You sit quietly on your boat. Patience now. Let the sun go down unhurriedly. Nothing should be rushed. Sit and reflect on your place in the universe, if you will.

Suddenly then, there appears to be a scarlet dot on the green mound. Is it real, or is it a reflection of your expectant mind? As you try to discern, there appear a few more dots. And then you see it! The whole dimming sky has filled up with scarlet dots, and they are all moving towards the mound. The scarlet ibises are coming home for the night.

Some fly straight in. Some come circling in. And then, once in a while, startling you, there comes a fast-flying squadron of them through a narrow passage between two nearby islands. Like a sudden gust of wind through a crevasse.

By sundown the green is completely supplanted. The whole mound has become solid, soft and faintly glistening scarlet. Everyone is home. The parents are home. The brood is home.

The islet of the scarlet ibis has become an ibis.