"Heads up, team," Duke turned to face Ellie and Noah. "For goodness sake, Ellie, what's that monstrosity you've got on your head?"
"Found it on the breakwater rocks." Ellie did a bum wiggle and shook her bill. "I thought it added a bit of class."
"Looks like a wet pancake," said Noah.
"Well, get rid of it. You can't perform with a ... whatever it is, on your head. We've got dives, rolls and a flypast." Duke pointed at Ellie's feet. "Is that toenail polish?"
"They're my best feature. I wanted to look ..."
Duke gave a frustrated sigh, "Too late to worry about that now, we need to get going. Our public awaits!"
Noah's tummy emitted a long, low growl. Duke eyeballed him.
"Did you eat this morning? I told you to eat. You know you were supposed to eat. This could ruin everything."
"I was too busy going through my moves." Noah stood on his toes, stuck his bill in the air, and performed a perfect pirouette. "I felt it needed extra work."
"That was beautiful, Noah. You're so graceful." Ellie blinked at Noah a couple of times.
"Oh thanks, Ellie. Your lifts are amazing. You get better every year."
"Can I interrupt this mutual appreciation, guys?"
"Sorry, Duke," they muttered simultaneously.
"Okay, let's move. File in."
Pelicans from the Central Coast to Nelson Bay perched on the rocks, fences and sandbags on Stockton Beach in anticipation of this annual event. Seagulls squatted in the front row and shags squinted from light poles. The crowd cheered and whistled as the trio marched along the shoreline. With chests out and feet slapping the sand rhythmically, they kept in time to the clapping of Duke's bill. Each move had been choreographed and memorised. They were ready.
The group had dodged golf balls and rowers on Cockle Creek; avoided the posse of fishermen on Throsby Creek; and eventually settled for a quieter stretch of the Hunter River near Hexham Bridge. It was there that they pruned, polished and practised the routine. Duke felt proud of their efforts so far.
They turned to face the audience, bowed, then waited as the rabble gradually subsided. Duke swivelled on his left foot, simultaneously executing a right-wing extension, then waded into the sea. The others peeled off in turn and formed an undulating line a short distance from the shore.
Duke felt excitement pulsating through his body. "Let's do it."
They began with identical turns and dips, plunging their bills into the sea, then spouting fountains into the air. They surfed on one foot with wingtips touching and when Noah did a back flip onto Duke's back the crowd boomed. As Ellie cartwheeled onto Noah's back, to complete the vertical acrobatics, the trio stretched their wings to maximum and hovered above the water. The applause was thunderous.
It was when the squad from Nelson Bay arrived, that it began to fall apart. They sashayed their way through the crowd and heckled the performers.
"You call this a show," yelled one. "My grandmother could do better."
"Best enrol in some lessons, twinkle toes," another piped in.
"Don't give up your day job," squeaked a voice from the back.
"Take no notice," Duke instructed. "Ignore them. Stay focussed. We're nearly there."
Ellie soared into the air, completed a double back-twist and transitioned into splits as Noah carried out an aerial pirouette and grand jete. They were to land together on Duke's outstretched wings to complete the routine. It was their most difficult move and concentration was essential. The numerous failed attempts had been discouraging, but finally, when it all came together it was magnificent.
As Ellie descended, she caught a glimpse of Noah racing towards the fish and chip shop. The cook was tossing offal into the bins out the back. And where was Duke? He wasn't in position. She panicked and plunged into the surf, landing with a belly flop.
Duke was marching up the sand, hissing and clapping his bill, heading towards the troublemakers.
"Duke, no!" shouted Ellie. It took a lot to rattle him. She'd seen what he could do.
Meanwhile, the whiff from the café was enough to create mayhem in the crowd.
Pelicans and seagulls elbowed, flapped and slapped their way to the food. The cook dropped the bucket and fled to safety inside as the hungry mob tipped over the bin and wrestled for scraps.
Duke stood in front of the disrupters. He wasn't the percussion king for nothing.
Twenty years he'd been training the surf dancers. In those years his wings had strengthened through rigid training and that he could crush a head with his jaws.
"Didn't mean nuthin' by it," said the self-appointed leader. The scar on his bill gave him status amongst the riff-raff.
"Tsk, tsk," Duke shook his head. "You lot need to learn some manners. Anyway Percy, aren't you getting a bit old for protesting?"
Percy shuffled his feet.
"Just a bit of fun," said another.
"Duke," Ellie approached. "Please don't do anything."
"Don't worry, love. I'm just chatting with these fellas. Might be a good idea to go and find Noah. I told him he should've eaten this morning."
When Ellie was a safe distance away, Duke turned and addressed the group.
"You know what happens when you carry on like disgruntled Swans supporter?" said Duke.
He clapped his bill a couple of times, lunged at Percy, grabbed his leg and squeezed.
The others took a step back. "No. Duke, please."
Duke let go. Percy clasped his foot between his wings, spun several times on the other one and swirled into the air, before landing on the sand with the accuracy of an ice skater. They all gaped in admiration.
"I've got a much better idea," said Duke. "Looks like we have a new act. Training starts Monday."
