Wednesday, February 15, 2012
We first heard their soft high pitched voices overhead, wonderful sounds which preceded them. Our eyes went skyward, searching. Then undulating string after string of Geese flew overhead. We could hear their rhythmic wing beats and the air moving through their feathers.
We humans just smiled and sent them loving wishes for a blessed nesting season. I pray they find a landscape which is supportive. And by the way, would you say hello to our friends up north when you pass overhead? Wish them well for the spring and summer seasons too.
Richard and I stood in one place for 20 minutes and they did not stop heading in their westward direction toward the national wildlife refuges on the Missouri River. I wondered who made the call this morning: "Time to go."
By noon, rain had begun. Richard noted that it surely would not be fun to fly through the rain with eyes wide open (even though they have a protective eyelid). By this time, we were in the car headed south and the windshield wipers were doing their thing. Geese don't have windshield wipers.
We noted string after string setting wings to stop in an open field with no cover down towards Atlanta. We wondered if they would find any food there. It looked kind of grim. Maybe they knew something that we did not? I wondered about chemicals and GMO corn too. Be safe, dear Geese.
This brief moment in time gave me time to reflect on that fact that migratory birds face a very real threat of tattered landscapes. Some of the humans call that "improvement". I wonder what the Earth Mother would say. I think many humans seem intent on taking it all. Fortunately, more seem to be wanting "balance".
When we returned the Geese were lifting off in an undulating flock of thousands. We were mesmerized watching them fly in mass and in waves just off to our right. They didn't seem to bump into each other. I am not sure how they did that.
I am so grateful that we 3 C's embrace the cycles and the seasons of Nature. The flights of the migratory birds are a sacred part of our spring ritual. To miss this would be like cutting off a huge piece of one's soul.
Posted by Butterfly Hill Farm, at 9:41 PM