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result(s) for
"Pelicans Fiction."
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The giraffe and the pelly and me
by
Dahl, Roald
,
Blake, Quentin, ill
in
Giraffe Juvenile fiction.
,
Pelicans Juvenile fiction.
,
Monkeys Juvenile fiction.
2013
A small boy with a desire to own a candy shop meets a window-washing team composed of a giraffe, a pelican, and a monkey and together they go to work for the wealthy Duke of Hampshire, who makes all their dreams come true.
KOAN
2020
This chapter illustrates how the author spent nights alone by Lake Wingra listening for short-eared owls and whip-poor-wills. After and before work, the author spent time drawing on the University of Wisconsin terrace, watching ducks raise their ducklings and pelicans stopping to rest on their journeys north. The chapter also describes how the author heard on the radio that the big pelican migration would be coming through Horicon Marsh. The author called in sick and drove northeast on U.S. Highway 151. However, she found out that she had missed the pelicans. Instead, she saw a flock of sandhill cranes, as well as red-winged blackbirds.
Book Chapter
My Bird Problem
2020
February 2005, South Texas: I’d checked into a roadside motel in Brownsville and was getting up in the dark every morning, making coffee for my old friend Manley, who wouldn’t talk to me or leave his bed until he’d had some, and then bolting the motel’s free breakfast and running to our rental car and birding nonstop for twelve hours. I waited until nightfall to buy lunch food and fill the car with gas, to avoid wasting even a minute of birdable daylight. The only way not to question what I was doing, and why I was doing it, was
Book Chapter
Nest Watcher
2020
Some years ago, I began to watch over wild birds along the north Florida coast. I was a volunteer steward, and my first assignment was on a bit of sand, a spoil island south of the Apalachicola bridge. There, I was to keep track of nesting activity by Least Terns, Black Skimmers, certain small plovers, or American Oystercatchers.
Two or three times a month between March and August, I’d travel to Apalachicola and slide my kayak down the concrete ramp at Ten Foot Hole. I’d tidy my lines, floating in the backwater basin between a double row of houseboats, sailboats,
Book Chapter