Saturday, October 8, 2011

Nothing Special, Something Special

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,

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