The Lake That Turned Pink

From a distance the lake looks wrong. There is a pink band across it, like someone has painted the water.

Then the band moves.

Flamingos. More than you can count. Spread right across the shallows, heads down, feeding.

The vehicle stops by the shore and the first thing that hits you is the noise. A low, constant chatter, a whole flock talking at once. Then the smell of the lake, salty and strong.

Up close, one flamingo is feeding just off the shore. Head upside down in the water, sweeping side to side. It looks ridiculous. It also looks perfect.

The colours are everything. Soft pink, hot pink, flashes of red and black when they open their wings.

Then one bird takes off. It runs across the water, wings beating, legs pedalling, and lifts away over the flock. Pink against blue against pink.

You forget to take the photo. Then you remember just in time.

Out here, flamingos are not a single sighting. They are a whole world, busy and noisy and shining in the heat.

You leave with pink in your eyes for the rest of the day.