My least favorite part of the day was at the Flamingo Habitat. Flamingos are very beautiful birds, but they really stink. They were also extremely noisy. I’d thought they were like swans, elegant and mute. (Although when I mentioned that to Frank he told me that even the mute swan made a whistle sound, and then informed us that the trumpeter swans made a bunch of different noises, everything from honks to hisses.)
When a couple of the flamingoes got into an argument, the noise level accelerated. Then they suddenly started poking each other with beaks and snapping at each other’s heads. It looked like they were having a dispute louder than the girlfriend/boyfriend combo in my apartment building that time. That couple had yelled, screamed, and called each other names for about twenty minutes. After their very loud and door-opening up and down the hall fight, both moved out of our apartment complex. I don’t know if they went in separate directions. I certainly hope so.
But the flamingos seemed to get over their spat more quickly. They moved away from each other and went right back to doing their thing, which seemed to be leg juggling and water sipping. I won’t say that silence descended after that, but at least it wasn’t world war a la flamingo.
I dreaded having an argument like that with Timothy. I just couldn’t bear it.
“We will never have a spat like that, my darling,” he said, picking up the thought. “We are too attuned to each other.”
Mind reading again. I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t move away. I liked his arm around me, and the way he sat closely whenever we watched some activity. In fact, I really, really liked everything about Timothy. He seemed to drip sweetness. (Amazing after my introduction to him when he’d seemed the most objectionable and the rudest person I’d ever met.)
We left the salmon stinkball birds, and Frank took us to the Dolphin Adventures arena. That was an incredible show. I love dolphins. Who doesn’t? They are graceful, friendly, and adorable. Afterward the show, we got to get up close to them. Bob, always eager to stick his hand in a fish bucket, fed Dolly. I’d had enough of fishy substances and hung back, but I did reach out and touch her. Smooth and rubbery, kind of like the stingray. Frank told us their skin was hairless.