the case of the dastardly Luverne flamingo killers.

This story begins with a simple fact: I love flamingos. 

 They are beautiful and strange and fascinating. In my middle- and high school years, I had a flamingo Beanie Baby (remember those?!), flamingo socks, and flamingo shirts. In my adult years, I have photographs of flamingos (that I took), a flamingo shirt, glass antique flamingos...

Note the little speck of pink metal flamingo lawn ornament in the background.

...a giant flamingo inner tube, and lawn flamingos.

Lawn flamingos.

It’s important for you to know that I love lawn flamingos unironically. James bought me my first set of lawn flamingos (classic pink, of course) when we moved into our house. I proudly placed them in our front yard, among our flowers and our herb garden.

Less than a month later, they were dead.

In the middle of the night, our flamingos were massacred. One flamingo was later found in our neighbor’s birdbath, its underside smashed in. The other flamingo was never to be found – all that was left of him were his legs.

Sorrowfully, we pulled the abandoned flamingo legs out of the ground and brought our injured flamingo inside. He can no longer support his legs, so he sits, legless, in our front window – never to be hurt again.

A few months later, I bought a set of Halloween lawn flamingos – painted black with their skeletons showing. I adored them, but I didn’t put them out on our lawn for fear of them meeting the same fate as our pink flamingos. Instead, I propped them up in the front windows. They were not nearly as visible as if they had been in the front lawn, but at least they were safe from flamingo killers.

 

But not safe from housecats.

Fast forward a few years. I was at the Brookings Summer Arts Festival (where you can find me every year on the second weekend in July) when I stumbled across the most beautiful lawn flamingos I had ever seen. They were made of wood and painted a neon pink. I had to have one.

I brought this new flamingo home and planted him right next to our Little Free Library. No one would hurt a little flamingo by a little free library, right?

Right.

Kind of.

For three years, our flamingo lived happily on the lawn. We left him out all winter, his neon pink providing a beacon of home in the bleak winter landscape. 

 James repainted him after the first winter, giving his coat its sheen back. He was due for another paint job.

On the morning of May 4, 2019, I was preparing for a jewelry sale/showcase for my handmade jewelry business. The jewelry sale was to be outside on my lawn on the beautiful May Saturday.

And then I saw it.

My flamingo’s head was missing.

I felt a deep dread. Hoping against hope that his head had just slid off (he was three years old, after all) and was sitting in the grass, I approached the scene. As the flamingo came into full view, my fears were confirmed: his head was nowhere to be found.

Someone tore our flamingo’s head clean off.

With a heavy heart, I pulled his little body out of the ground. I couldn’t leave a headless flamingo on my lawn; he didn’t deserve that. I sadly walked his little body inside and gently set in our garage. It’s still there, awaiting a proper goodbye.

So what do I do now? I love lawn flamingos. They bring me joy, and I hope they have brought joy to others walking or driving by our lawn. But with the lawn flamingo mortality rate at 100% at our house, do I dare buy more? Their fate is sealed before they even get here. Can I put myself (or the flamingos) through that again?

Good citizens of Luverne, please keep your eyes open for the dastardly Flamingo Killers of Donaldson Street. They will strike again, and this time, it could be YOUR lawn flamingo or garden gnome or wooden sign with your name on it. No yard art or lawn ornament is safe. Let’s put an end to their killing spree and make the lawns safe for flamingos again.