"Oh, the beautiful and elusive flamingull," Mary Margaret agrees, nodding mock-solemnly despite the smile that sneaks past, exposing the humor in her words. "People might not be able to handle such a sight."

She crouches down slowly to make herself less of an intimidating tower for the birds, trying to get a glimpse of the ones that have landed in order to feed, while more still linger in the branches above. "Do you keep any personally, or do you just enjoy taking care of the island's population?"