It seems a bit odd to me that I should be held disreputable for a chickens’ reproductive and excreting methods. While I’m not able to answer that age old question about which came first, neither did I have anything to do with the construction and execution of the ‘vent method’ referenced in a previous post.
And, aside from having aged a smidgen more since we last connected with eyes and ears, I’m still pretty much that same ‘ol elusive, mysterious, enigma that I’ve always been. Wafting in and out of the present and past and doing my best to stay under the radar screen that is responsible for bad feelings, AK-47’s, and all other mean missives.
However, Sandhill Cranes are now migrating northwards in huge silvery V’s, wending their way towards their preferred breeding grounds, and sounding their prehistoric calls that give me such current happiness married with hope for the future. (Maybe not for us, but likely for them as they’ve already been around for fifteen million years or so, while our relatively short-lived human sprint seems headed for the stuff that exudes from chicken posteriors.)
And Spring, unmistakable Spring, inexorable Spring is shouting its presence on the natural stage despite I-285 and the “progress” that roaring bulldozers are making to “improved real estate”. Hang on chillun! Nature bats last and Her lineup includes chicken vents, Sandhills, and those blazingly hot pink ‘Okame’ flowering cherry trees!
Yep, they’ve been migrating north for the last couple of weeks. In our area, they’ll be headed south in November and December. They are huge birds ( about 42″ at maturity) and have a call that I can only describe as somewhat guttural. Nothing like the honking of geese for which they are frequently mistaken. I’ll tip my hand on spirituality in this forum: when I hear or see them I am moved to tears. Hard to describe exactly why, but they represent a continuity to life with their coming and going; their silvery wings of migration describe grandeur; their milling about as they wait for stragglers is community; their lofty height above human heads feels like hope.