One bird sits still9/17/04
Watching the work of God:
One turning leaf,
Two falling blossoms,
Ten circles upon the pond.
.....--Thomas Merton
Every spring and fall the Vaux's swifts swirl through town along their migration path to somewhere else. I've been hearing their characteristic peeping high above me as I do my fall gardening and thought I'd post the following, written by me in April, 2002 when they were headed in the opposite direction. You can hear swifts at the following URL: http://birds.cornell.edu/BOW/CHISWI/.
Most nights I fight with myself over whether I will or whether I will not pry myself away from my little house to walk the neighborhood after a long day at work. Some nights I win, and other nights I win the argument.
Tonight I decided to walk down to Agate Hall to see the swifts. It’s a short, flat walk from my house, and since I had a destination and a purpose, it wasn’t too difficult to motivate myself on out the door. I heard scores of starlings, jays, crows, and other birds whose voices I am not practiced enough to identify. I didn’t hear the swifts’ characteristic peeping as they gather in the sky but I still enjoyed the familiar neighborhood smells of cut grass, water on pavement, lint and fabric softener sheets from a dryer vent, and hot oil and spices from someone’s stir-fry.
Upon arriving, I was disappointed to see a small handful of birdwatchers but not a single bird. I didn’t break my pace. I kept going. Rounding the corner of the next block, however, I heard them. There were only three or four dipping and flitting from the southeast, but there they were. I kept going, enjoying the feel of cool air in my lungs, noticing the contrast of cold fingertips curled against warm palms inside my pockets, taking pleasure in brisk, rhythmic movement and my own companionship. As I strode along I reflected upon and appreciated the care and planning and effort behind various gardens along the way. Trillium, fritillaria, centaurea (blooming already, and so large!)… I kept going. By the time of my second approach, a few hundred swifts fluttered and darted about like bats in the clear blue sky above the parking lot. I joined others who had assembled to take in the show. As darkness gathered and more swifts appeared, having returned from their last meal along the river, neighborhood walkers paused to ask what we were looking at before they, too, decided to linger. There weren’t many swifts tonight. They continued to collect, now somewhat resembling a swarm of peeping bees high up in the sky. The swarm became an entity in itself, gathering and dispersing, changing shape, nearly disappearing, and suddenly, thrillingly, rematerializing. It did this for quite some time before about a quarter of its mass broke off and spiraled down the chimney without a moment's hesitation. The remainder continued as if it hadn’t noticed, dancing, peeping, disappearing, and amassing for several minutes. And then, abruptly, it seemed to intensify its focus as it whirled for a few brief seconds like a large donut above the parking lot and then vanished suddenly down the tall chimney, resembling for all the world smoke played backwards on a movie projector.
A most satisfying evening. And I always sleep more soundly on the nights when I walk.
