It was your average visit to the zoo, and the flamingos were doing average flamingo things:

standing around as a flock…

…sleeping as a flock…

…preening as a flock.

Except for this guy, who was either too cool, or not cool enough, to stand, sleep, or preen with the flock. In either case, he was a people flamingo, hanging out by the fence letting zoo visitors view him up close and personal. More likely, he wanted to view the zoo visitors up close and personal.

So I impulsively decided to oblige him and at the same time pose for a picture with the friendly flamingo. Because how many people have pictures of themselves with flamingos?

If I look less than thrilled to be one of the few people to be photographed with a flamingo, that’s because as soon as he turned toward me, I realized how big he was. And not just height-wise (note how he’s as tall as me). I’m talking about his beak. I never realized how big a flamingo beak was. Or how it was lined with little points, like a saw blade. I had visions of him leaning over and chomping me. Mr. Burt could not snap that pic quickly enough for my comfort, and as soon as he did, I dashed away from the fence.

I guess I can write “flamingos” on my list of weird phobias, between “car carriers” and “heights, other people doing them.”