Kanga and Baby Roo and Tigger were out for a walk when they came to the river’s edge and were surprised to see to bright-pink birds standing in the water. The birds had very long, spindly legs and long necks, and seemed to be arguing about something.
“It’s a dance, I tell you,” said one.
“No dance; us,” said the other.
“Absurd,” said the first, “you’re just confused.”
“One of us is certainly confused,” said the second bird, “but it is not I.”
Roo couldn’t contain himself and hopped over to the edge of the water. “Hulloooo!” he called excitedly, “Who are you? Are you birds? Why are your legs so long? Are you always such a bright color?”
Kanga took Roo’s paw and said to the birds “I’m sorry, Roo is just very excited to meet strangers, and we haven’t seen anyone who looks quite like you do. Welcome to the Hundred Acre Wood. My name is Kanga. This is Roo, and here is Tigger.”
Tigger said hello and did a few small bounces — not so much as to show off, but just so they could see that he could if he wanted to.
“Hello,” said the first pink bird, “we are migrating, and we just stopped here for a brief rest. We are flamingos.”
“Flamencos” corrected the second bird.
“Don’t listen to him,” said the first, “it’s ‘flamingos’.”
“Don’t listen to HIM,” said the second, “he is a ‘flamenco’, and so am I. Everyone knows this. Everyone except him.”
“Nonsense,” said the first, “nobody knows that, and there’s only one who thinks it, and he is wrong.”
The birds began to argue again, paying no attention to Kanga, Roo, or Tigger.
“Mama,” said Roo, tugging on Kanga, “they’re not very friendly, are they?”
“They just want to settle their disagreement,” said Kanga. She wasn’t sure quite what to make of the two birds or their argument.
“Hey there,” said Tigger very loudly. It was so loud the two birds stopped talking altogether and looked at Tigger. “I just wanted to ask,” said Tigger, who was a bit surprised himself, “what’s the difference?”
“What difference?” asked the first bird.
“The difference between ‘flagimmo’ and “flamacco’,” explained Tigger.
“It’s ‘flamingo’ and ‘flamenco,’” said the first bird, “and the difference is that the kind of bird we are is called ‘flamingo’…”
“Flamenco,” corrected the second bird.
“…and there is a kind of dance called a ‘flamenco’.” finished the first bird.
“That’s a ‘flamingo’ dance,” said the second.
The two birds glared at each other, then began to argue again.
“Why don’t you just call yourselves ‘pinkies’?” asked Tigger.
Roo thought that was one of Tigger’s best ideas. “Yes yes yes!” he shouted, hopping up and down. “Because you’re so pink!”
“Well excuse me,” said the first bird, “but ‘pinkies’ is not very dignified. Birds like us have been called ‘flamingos’ since the 1500s, and there’s no reason to stop now. Unless you make a Very Large Mistake and confuse us with the ‘flamenco’ dance that was named, in Spanish, much later on. It’s the dance,” explained the bird, “that used to be called the ‘olé.’”
“Oh pish-tush,” said the second bird, “we have been called ‘flamencos’ since well before then, and ‘flamingo’ is just a mistake that happened in 1589 when Richard Hakluyt wrote his book The principall navigations, voiages and discoveries of the English nation. As you can see from his title, he was Not Good at Spelling, and that’s what happened. We ought not to be called after a mistake by a Bad Speller.”
Just then another bright pink bird swooped down out of the sky and landed nearby. “Ahoy,” said the new bird, “we’re about to leave; are you two ready?”
The two birds stopped arguing at once. “Quite ready,” said the first.
“Let’s go,” said the second. All three birds spread their wings, which turned out to be quite large and very impressive.
“Wait,” called Tigger to the third bird. “what kind of birds are you really?”
As the three birds took off into the air the third bird stretched his long neck around to answer Tigger. “That’s easy,” he said, “we’re phenicopteri.”
With that, the three birds flew up and away and were gone.
“Come along, Roo,” said Tigger, “let’s play Poohsticks.”
