Beginnings of Change
September 8, 2024
Before I start this morning, I want to send a big healing hug to Cheryl, one of the kindest women you would ever meet, one of my biggest supporters and a long-time family friend. Send her some love if you will for speedy healing.
I step out of the car and walk toward the lake, twenty minutes before sunrise on a cloudy morning with a cool north wind blowing. Sunrise is now an hour later than at midsummer and I’m so happy to see the darker part of the morning again. It’s cool enough I’m glad I ignored the weather app and wore a light sweater, it doesn’t feel like 68 degrees (F) and the temperature is falling. A barred owl hoots from a nearby tree and though I can’t see her among the leaves, I whisper hello and thank her for the greeting.
As I arrive at the water’s edge, I look out over the lake and see a large swirl of dark birds. At least fifty, and maybe as many as one hundred, turkey vultures are kettling near the opposite shore. Turkey vultures congregate in the fall before they head south and it’s always a treat to see a large flock of giant birds spiraling in the air together.
As I watch the turkey vultures I hear a loud scr-eeee-aaa-ch, the unmistakable sound of a Caspian tern! I scan the clouds and eventually see at least seven of these large terns hovering and diving over the water. It’s too dark for photos and they are a little too far away, so I watch them dive and ask if they might come a little closer before they leave.
While I’m watching the terns an osprey circles through, stopping to dive a few times and eventually catching a fish. The osprey heads off for a tree on the far shoreline with his catch and I watch to see if eagle has noticed. I don’t see eagle so things look good for the osprey to be able to eat his breakfast in peace.
The sun makes it over the horizon, but it’s still mostly hidden by the clouds. The clouds are breaking up to the north and this wind will soon push them out of the way. The water looks like liquid metal, all silver with flecks of gold starting to seep in as the sun finds holes in the clouds.
A flock of cormorants fly low over the lake with their long necks stretched out and their wing tips nearly touching the water. A flock of geese fly through, a little higher than the cormorants but much lower than the hovering terns. More birds are on the move each week now and the flocks are getting larger. Even the robins pass overhead eight to ten at a time where they were more solitary in mid-summer.
The sun starts to poke through the clouds and two small sandpipers fly around nearby as if they are looking to land, though they never do. Birds are generally more cautious on windy mornings, so I’m not surprised they don’t land, but I always hope they will.
A fast-moving bird zips over my head and flies towards a small group of ring-billed gulls who are hovering and diving for fish out in the lake. A look through my camera confirms the speedster as a peregrine falcon! The falcon makes a few passes at the gulls but leaves empty-handed. Later, looking at the photo, I can see it’s a first-year falcon. I hope she hangs around!
I find myself spontaneously singing, “…let the morning time drop all its petals on me; life I love you, all is groovy.” (59th Street Bridge Song, Simon & Garfunkel). It feels like many beautiful petals dropping all around this morning. I stop to quickly record the happenings of the morning using voice-to-text and I’m humored when the spell corrector keeps turning the word “awe” into the word “aww”.
As the clouds clear, so do the birds over the lake. Caspian terns often seem to leave at sunrise and with the north wind blowing perhaps they and others are simply following that nice ride south. I’ve enjoyed standing and watching them and now it’s time for a walk.
As I turn to walk towards the trail, I am greeted by a swirl of chimney swifts. The swifts have been growing in number for the past two weeks and it’s a true delight to watch them swoop, spiral, and circle over my head. I attempt to take video of them but they are too small, quick, and spread out to capture. Nothing left to do but watch!
I’ve written before that spring migration feels fast and furious but fall migration feels slow and languid. Birds in the fall are often taking their time, following the winds but also stopping to rest and play. Spring migration feels short, just a few weeks. Fall migration stretches out over a few months. I love the thrill of spring, but I revel in the slower pace of fall. I just have to remember to be patient.
As fall and summer dance, temperatures will warm and cool and warm and cool again. I pray for a little rain as the trees need it badly. I never know from year to year which of my friends might pass through, but I hope to see them all and add some prayers that maybe they will come close enough for a proper greeting. Fall can be a time of surprises, just like spring. I wonder what surprises will appear this year?
I think my little prince of the feeder has left to go south, but not before he let me capture a few encounters he had with interlopers. Here’s one:
May your week be conflict-free, may peace find you, may whatever is broken begin to heal, and may you remember that you are as beautiful as my hummingbird friends!
What an amazing sunrise you captured, as well as all of the birds and insets. Praying mantis is one of my favorites and their camouflage is remarkable. Beautiful photos as always.
That world is always out there, always ready to capture our attention, always eager to turn our thoughts toward the beautiful, and away from our worries and troubles.
As always, thank you Karen.