Peli-can you imagine anything more de-flight-ful than this wonderful waterbird? No, I don’t bill-ieve you can! The Big Pelican is the main attraction of South Australia’s verdant Riverland region, and has a story more wing-credible than you can imagine.
With a personality even larger than his beak, The Big Pelican has long been the darling of Loxton’s robust social scene. He’s vivacious and outgoing with a slight bad boy edge, and always the centre of attention.
The Big Pelican is the sort of guy all the dusky moorhens want, and all the dollarbirds want to be.
Those empathetic (and tall!) enough to have stared into his deep, caramel eyes, however, may have discovered something more; the sweet melancholy of dreams unrealised. For whilst he touched millions of hearts and lived a rockstar lifestyle, all The Big Pelican really wanted was to paddle along the Murray River with his normal-sized mates.
The gentle caress of cool water on his tasty tootsies seemed little more than a flight of fancy. But then, in late-2022, a miracle happened.
Whatever floats your boat
Like many of the more sociable Bigs, such as Lefty, Matilda and Victoria’s Clownfish, the Pelican began life as an oversized parade float. The Loxton Mardi Gras had long lured in revellers but, thanks to the arrival of The Big Pelican, it was the 1979 edition that turned the town into a must-visit party destination.
Move over, Rio de Janeiro! Your carnivale seems like fun, but it doesn’t have a four-metre-long aquatic chicken!
Local chap John Draper was the visionary who came up with the idea to trundle a papier-mâché pelican through the town’s streets. Inspired, perhaps, by Pelican Pete up in Queensland, he brought in Glenn Butson and Bruce Graham to help build the behemoth, with Charlotte Thiele adding a lick of paint. Bird fanciers swarmed in to ooh and ahh at his grandeur (the Pelican, that is, not John Draper – although I’m sure he’s a very handsome man).
The humongous heron was also the star of the 1980 Mardi Gras, but apparently the good people of Loxton partied just a little too hard. Abandoned on a riverbank, the Pelican was birdnapped by local gang members. They strapped him to some old car tubes and floated the poor wretch down the raging waters of the Murray River. His skin was destroyed, the flesh stripped from his lithe bosom.
The poor fellow must’ve been terrified.
Those thugs must be in their 60s by now, and have probably kept their shameful secret to themselves. Maybe now, after all these years, they can look themselves in the mirror and not feel ashamed. Perhaps they no longer wake in the early hours of the morning, slick with sweat, the Pelican’s name scraped across their sandpaper tongues. But I hope, when their time in the sun draws to a close, that the final thought to race through their bitter minds is of the horror they put that poor Pelican through back in 1980.
It remains the darkest moment in South Australia’s long history. Well, apart from the whole bodies in barrels thing, but it’s still pretty bad.
You can’t keep a good pelican down
Five years after his seeming demise, The Big Pelican was resurrected by an enterprising young dude named Peter Mangelsdorf. With stars in his eyes, Pete believed that the king-sized cormorant could find fame and fortune in one of the world’s cultural hotspots, and so took him to the bright lights of Adelaide.
With the help of Roy Harvey, Dana Braddock, Ruth Pfeiller and some of the area’s more ambitious students, The Big Pelican came back better than ever. He appeared at the 1985 New Year’s Eve spectacular, and returned to Adelaide for the well-received Murray Comes to Town festival in 1989.
When not mingling with Adelaide’s glitterati, this beaky chap was the centrepiece of the Loxton Mardi Gras until 1992. Like the rest of us, this party boy finally had to grow up, put the sequinned hotpants away and become a respectable member of society. Peter had long dreamed of having this pouch-standing example of modern architecture fibreglassed and put on permanent display, which he was able to do in 1998 with the help of Peter Goodhand.
The Big Pelican was placed inside Loxton Riverfront Caravan Park, where he spent his days inspiring a new generation to greatness. But, as always, he had one eye on the tranquil swell of the mighty Murray…
Floody hell!
If the The Big Pelican can’t go to the river, then the river will come to The Big Pelican. In late 2022, torrential rainfall caused the Murray River to swell like the pregnant belly of a 2,508km-long snake. As the waters rose, sweeping away all in their path, the Pelican watched on and dreamed of floating on the refreshing brine – this time on his own terms.
The caravan park he called home was drowned beneath metres of mud and finally, blissfully, The Big Pelican found himself surrounded by water. The sight was odd to locals, but also just felt right, as if the big fellow was finally where he belonged.
The waters receded. The park was cleaned up and, eventually, will once again welcome campers. The Big Pelican sits again on dry land once more, the stream achingly close. But look at his curved beak. Stare into those deep, caramel eyes, and you’ll see something that wasn’t there before. You’ll see a flicker of life and excitement, born of a few unbelievable days upon the Murray River.
Miracles do happen. Just ask The Big Pelican.
Epilogue: When Bigs met Barry
During my visit to The Big Pelican I was fortunate enough to spend time with the irrepressible Barry Mangelsdorf, the brother of Peter. Barry is as charming as he is knowledgable of the Pelican, and regaled me with many stories of the Pelican’s adventures over the years.
We’ll go for that swim next time I’m passing through town, Baz!
