An Egyptian Ibis
I’m shopping in downtown Davie, Florida, and I spot a Cuban cafeteria on the east side of Davie Road. I decide to give it a try.
“Why?” you ask.
“Well, I haven’t had Cuban food in quite a while. I’m craving, or as they say in Davie, ‘I gotta hankering for some grilled steak, white rice, black beans, and plantains.'”
As I enter the restaurant, the smell of the grilled steak overpowers me. It’s half grocery store and half cafeteria, with no inside seating. All its comida Cubana —picadillo con arroz, white, tostones, yuca con mojo, ropa vieja, flan, arroz con leche, white rice, fried rice, pollo, fried pork, frijoles, and plantains — rest behind a protective dome of clear glass.
I order, pay, and walk outside to the courtyard, holding my green cardboard tray. Finding a grated black iron table and chair, I sit and to my surprise observe a 24-inch, long-legged, white American ibis standing in the middle of the next table.
“Why is this wading, frog-eating Everglades bird standing on a table in a Cuban restaurant in downtown Davie?”
But this ibis acts as if he/she owns the place.
I remember calling these birds “Egyptian ibis” because when I studied their hieroglyphic images on ancient clay tablets, I learned they represented the Egyptian god Thoth.
“This ibis has chutzpah! He shows no fear in claiming this restaurant as his feeding ground. Yup, ibis are the last of wildlife to take shelter before a hurricane hits, and the first to reappear once the storm has passed.
I sit next to the ibis table.
“The bird is eying my steak.”
I cut my steak, taste my rice and beans, and as I raise my steak-covered fork toward my mouth, in one fell swoop, the ibis, like an Israeli pilot flying a Phantom Jet, removes and swallows the steak. I sit in shock, thankful that the bird bill didn’t gouge my eye.
“That bird’s long, hooked beak almost cut my face!”
I quickly decide to avoid further confrontations. I pack up my meal, head to my CRV, realizing that danger lurks around every corner, even in downtown Davie.
