<b>Daniel and the Pelican</b> As I drove home from work one afternoon, the cars ahead of me were swerving to miss something not often seen in the mi… - Jack Canfield

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Daniel and the Pelican

As I drove home from work one afternoon, the cars ahead of me were swerving to miss something not often seen in the middle of a six-lane highway: a great big pelican. After an eighteen-wheeler nearly ran him over, it was clear the pelican wasn’t planning to move any time soon. And if he didn’t, the remainder of his life could be clocked with an egg timer.
I parked my car and slowly approached him. The bird wasn’t the least bit afraid of me, and the drivers who honked their horns and yelled at us as they sped by didn’t impress him either.
Stomping my feet, I waved my arms and shouted to get him into the lake next to the road, all the while trying to direct traffic.
“C’mon beat it, Big Guy, before you get hurt!”
After a brief pause, he cooperatively waddled to the curb and slid down to the water’s edge.
Problem solved. Or so I thought.
The minute I walked away he was back on the road, resulting in another round of honking, squealing tires and smoking brakes.
So I tried again.
“Shoo, for crying out loud!”
The bird blinked, first one eye then the other, and with a little sigh placated me by returning to the lake.
Of course when I started for my car it was instant replay.
After two more unsuccessful attempts, I was at my wits’ end. Cell phones were practically non-existent back then, and the nearest pay phone was about a mile away. I wasn’t about to abandon the hapless creature and run for help. He probably wouldn’t be alive when I returned.
So there we stood, on the curb, like a couple of folks waiting at a bus stop. While he nonchalantly preened his feathers, I prayed for a miracle.
Suddenly a shiny red pickup truck pulled up, and a man hopped out.
“Would you like a hand?”
I’m seldom at a loss for words, but one look at the very tall newcomer rendered me tongue-tied and unable to do anything but nod.
He was the most striking man I’d ever seen — smoky black hair, muscular with tanned skin, and a tender smile flanked by dimples deep enough