an essay
The wind was strong and the skies were grey, past overcast
but not yet ready to classify as stormy. Two female Belted Kingfishers rattled their
disapproval while they rocketed after each other. Turkey Vultures soared in the
distant gloomy skies. A duo of Sandhill Cranes honked and trumpeted as they flapped
large wings in tandem. A Mute Swan and her mate placidly sunk their heads
underwater to dabble in vegetation. A
bald eagle was perched atop a dead tree, allowing a chance to marvel in his
presence until he took wing—and it was incredible. He was close and rushed past
on powerful wings across the marsh. He was going very fast, and made rounds
around the entire lake complex. As he passed over furiously, the flocks of
waterfowl burst into the air in a domino effect. He reached the opposite side
of the marsh and swept onto another tree to sit guard. As he finished his
flight, the waterfowl already flying and those still swimming began to flock
midair and, to my absolute wonder, formed a massive group and flew over my head
like a plane: sweeping and quick, with an impossible scale. Widgeon and ruddy
ducks and shovelers and mallards and teal and others… it was a one of a kind
event, and it’s why I love birds. Even in a moment of panic these beings
managed to emit a collective beauty and synchronism unparalleled. They
sputtered to a stop around a wise looking Great Blue Heron, his feathers puffed
in the cold. His dark colouration and calm demeanor gave the impression of a
wise sentinel looking out for the waterfowl. It was in this state I retreated
into the forest full of winter Yellow-rumped warblers, leaving the birds to
their wonderfully mysterious ways.
~Peace always,
Kristina~
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