This evening just before darkness fell I took my moths outside to set them free. I stood in the fierce winds from the hurricane, opened the top of the Bugzooka and they flew into the wind currents. It seemed marvelous.
The air was so wild and the fading night so inviting, that I stood there for a bit. Soon I heard my flock of geese but I couldn't tell where they were. It was almost dark and I couldn't see them anywhere. I tried to localize their honking. Where was it coming from? Ahead -- that was as far as I could pin it down. I stood still and listened. The honking was getting louder.
Suddenly the flock streamed across the sky, right over me. Their black silhouettes stood out clearly against the lighter background of the fading night sky. They called loudly to each other as they flew -- and I knew I was hearing Milo, calling out to his flock and directing their flight. And the others called back to him, sounding joyful to follow his lead.
These adult geese flying through the night sky were, in large part, the babies I helped raise this summer. They've grown up and are as powerful and large as the other geese. Last week I noticed that Milo had begun to take the flock on day trips. They're gone for most of the day now, where before they'd just lounge around in the yard. Milo is literally training them, taking them on longer and longer flights to get them ready for the coming migration. Some nights they don't return at all. (And yes, I worry when they don't come home at night. It's just the way I am.)
But in that brief, wild moment as they passed overhead, as I stood in the wind, already feeling the power of nature all around me, their appearance in the night sky seemed so perfect. I will always remember this experience. (And it's very cool to have friends who can fly.)
The air was so wild and the fading night so inviting, that I stood there for a bit. Soon I heard my flock of geese but I couldn't tell where they were. It was almost dark and I couldn't see them anywhere. I tried to localize their honking. Where was it coming from? Ahead -- that was as far as I could pin it down. I stood still and listened. The honking was getting louder.
Suddenly the flock streamed across the sky, right over me. Their black silhouettes stood out clearly against the lighter background of the fading night sky. They called loudly to each other as they flew -- and I knew I was hearing Milo, calling out to his flock and directing their flight. And the others called back to him, sounding joyful to follow his lead.
These adult geese flying through the night sky were, in large part, the babies I helped raise this summer. They've grown up and are as powerful and large as the other geese. Last week I noticed that Milo had begun to take the flock on day trips. They're gone for most of the day now, where before they'd just lounge around in the yard. Milo is literally training them, taking them on longer and longer flights to get them ready for the coming migration. Some nights they don't return at all. (And yes, I worry when they don't come home at night. It's just the way I am.)
But in that brief, wild moment as they passed overhead, as I stood in the wind, already feeling the power of nature all around me, their appearance in the night sky seemed so perfect. I will always remember this experience. (And it's very cool to have friends who can fly.)
