Wild Geese

I heard them before I saw them: the wild geese. All that honking could never escape unnoticed. I was visiting the Arboretum, standing just outside Childhood's Gate. I turned my face toward the sky.

You think of the formation of wild geese as a V, but in truth, it's much messier than that. Look at that clump of birds in the middle. No neat V here, folks. I'm sure there is reason for that. You know: aerodynamics and such. Bird stuff.

The geese are heading south, finally. I don't know if it was last week's snow that convinced them, or maybe the bitter cold we had there for a few days, that will return again after Christmas.

The wild cries made me restless. But I will stay here in the north, for all of what winter brings, for better or worse. I do love the best parts of it: the magic of the frost mist rising on a three-degree morning, the pristine glory of a fresh snow. I would not miss that for anything. So here I stand; here I stay.

Farewell, geese. Safe travels. See you in the spring.

For the soundtrack, there is only one song that will do: Mary Chapin Carpenter, with 10,000 miles, from the movie Fly Away Home. (Oh yes, I've used it before! Heck yeah, I'll use it again!) :-)

For the lovers of poetry, I urge you to have a look at Mary Oliver's poem by the same name as this blip. Better yet, read it out loud. It starts like this:

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. . . . 

(Read the whole poem here.)

Also, here's a link to some info about the basics of bird migration.