In a time when we long for miracles, allow me to draw your attention to one of the wildest.
I was in the middle of one of my midnight Facebook scrolls, and came across a blurry photograph on my timeline. It was posted by a birder on one of the bird-nerd pages I follow. The photo was of a Rose-breasted Grosbeak taking its final wing beats over the Gulf of Mexico, moments before it made landfall in Texas.
Tears began to stream down the sides of my face, pooling into my ears. I became overwhelmed with how miraculous that moment must have been for that bird. I wanted to understand what it felt like to do it…
To be overcome with a restlessness that convinces you to take off over waters that appear to have no end…
To finally see a glimpse of land after flying hundreds of harrowing miles over open ocean…
I couldn’t keep these thoughts to myself, so I called my friend Jason Ward, one person who I knew would understand my overwhelming emotions and would also be awake. When he answered the phone I tried to explain to him the picture I’d just seen and why I was so overcome with wonder, but all he heard was snot, congestion, and sobs. Even without the words, he, too, knew the feeling.
No too long after, I was gifted one of the most incredible books I’ve ever read: “A Season On the Wind: Inside the world of spring migration” by Kenn Kaufman. The only thing that topped receiving that book was that the real Kenn Kaufman gave it to me, AND he signed it (no you cannot have it, but you can borrow it).
(All following quotes are from this book)
Avian migration is the large-scale movement of birds between where they breed (often in the spring/summer) and where they spend the winter. In North America, that includes approximately 350 different species and well over 4 billion individual birds.
And it’s finally here.
The first few weeks of March had an air of anticipation, like the feeling of an approaching family reunion. But instead of cousins and nieces, we were waiting for transient sprites that hold a healing for the soul; as Kenn writes, “tiny messengers of hope…carrying spring on their wings…driven by ancient rhythms, guided by the light of distant stars” (literally, by the way).
Now, we are in the thick of it. Tanagers, swallows, WARBLERS, and more! This season feels for me like the moment when I stick my head out of the car on the highway; a rush so powerful that I can hardly breathe, but it fills me with life.
But this year, while birds are moving across the globe, humans are sheltering in place, traveling less than we ever have in recent history….and it’s making us restless. It’s an unquenchable restlessness, a thirst, that the busyness of our work and responsibilities can’t satisfy. It reminds me of that restlessness I mentioned earlier (called “migratory restlessness”) which prompts birds to commence one of the most daring and miraculous events in the natural world: migration.
But most people miss migration, and this breaks my heart. Kenn’s words deeply resonate with me when he says: “I want to grab complete strangers–gently–and beg them to look, just look, at this vast parade of tiny travelers ushering in the wonders of springtime.”
Can I make a recommendation? Don’t make me have to break social distancing, show up on your doorstep, and gently snatch you up to make you look at the birds that may very well be right outside your window.
Take a moment to draw your attention outside. I find hope, rhythm, purpose, when I choose to be part of the incredible story of migration…even as a mere sideline observer, cheering them on, and appreciating the fact that each bird I encounter has seen more of this earth than I ever have.
I believe that, much like birds, the restlessness that many of us feel right now can, and is, birthing some of the most miraculous and beautiful expressions of humanity. But it’s still a harrowing ordeal, much like the process of migration itself, taking every ounce of strength in our being. That’s why I believe that each of us would do well to look to birds, creatures who have been accomplishing that which seems impossible for eons before humans were a thought.
I’m glad I did. To the people who drew my attention to the birds, especially Kenn Kaufman, thank you. Thank you for putting words to the surprisingly complex emotions and experiences that have been brought on by choosing to look closely at the lives of these resilient beings.
I will leave you all with this:
“These migratory birds will inspire me for as long as I live. They practice no religion, but they are buoyed up and carried along on their journeys by what seem to be infinite levels of faith. They live the briefest of lives, but they are bound to eternal things. They are out there now between the heavens and the earth, legions of travelers flowing strong and deep through the night, beyond all understanding, beyond all imagination, filling the sky with life.” — Kenn Kaufman, A Season On The Wind: Inside the world of spring migration
P.S., you need to get this book.
Hood Naturalist 
Corina it is a pleasure to see such lovely and passionate writing.
LikeLike
Thank you so, very much!
LikeLiked by 1 person