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Jim Work is in the “party business.”

Anyone who knows him will tell you that, but it’s the response he offers when questioned about his profession.

And it fits. He’s among the old-school regime around Spanish Town, one of the original krewe members who started making flamingos, installing flamingos, and yes, swiping flamingos.

Jim Work and cohorts plant flamingoes in the suburbs.

They call it flocking, and Work started flocking around 20 years ago when the floats and throws often resembled oversized condoms and unmentionable body parts.

“Hey, we just provide a canvas and the parade-going public colors it in,” says Work, 56, unwilling to be solely blamed for the delightful crudeness that is the Spanish Town Mardi Gras Parade.

But Work’s claim to fame has more to do with the LSU Lakes, where manufactured flamingos seem to flock every Mardi Gras season. He’s one of those guys—unknown to law enforcement and the voting populous—who ventures out into the inky lake waters each winter to leave dozens of giant, plywood pink “Icelandic Flamingos.”

“They grow them really big up there,” Work jokes.

One year, the old school regime managed to fabricate a massive flamingo/dragon hybrid that snaked in and out of the water. Alas, the head was stolen and a public appeal was made for its return. But it didn’t come as a shock.

“We encourage the theft of those little rascals because we can just summon the troops and make more,” he says. The pink flamingos also sometimes pop up overnight in unsuspecting peoples’ yards, or are stolen from others who adore them.

Nothing is sacred when Spanish Town Mardi Gras is approaching: it’s flock or be flocked.