As the sun resolved another day, the stealth of pink caught me unaware. It shrieked at the coming of the night. Even in the shadows there was no absolute freedom from light. Looking for the Purple Gallinule, I could only imagine seeing his iridescent purple chest, bright shield on his forehead, yellow legs and red bill with a yellow tip. With the bright reflections bouncing the sky back to itself, it was easy for even a neon blue bird, the colors of a peacock, to be illusive. I probably never saw the Gallinule. But as Kurt Vonnegut wrote, "If this isn't nice, what is?"
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