Birds of a Feather

The birds took flight with a great whisper of wings and one or two screeches of protest. They soared high, circled a bit, then landed further down the bayou, silently and gracefully gliding onto the water. The power of flight is a joyful and amazing thing to watch.

In the water they formed small groups and walked about, their spiky legs moving jerkily. Funny how something so perfect in the air can appear so clumsy on land. I watched them feeding on water bugs and poking into debris and the younger ones chasing and pecking each other playfully while the adults looked on. The water was low that day and there were dry patches here and there - the birds seemed to prefer the shallows littered with sticks and clumps of dried grass and weeds. It was early afternoon and hot and I nearly envied them wandering about in the murky water. Almost in slow motion, they took one step after another, like carefully drawn stick figures or puppets moved by invisible strings. They were disjointed and awkward but delicate and gentle all at the same time. A small flock of ducks landed upstream in a wake of feathers and loud calling, disturbing the quiet water and causing alarm in the other birds. A turtle emerged to sun itself on a half submerged log and it was time to go.

Nature protects and sacrifices it's own. Walking up the bank toward the highway, I came across a carcass, a withered and long dead crow, now just a small pile of crushed feathers and splintery bones spread over a small patch of grass and weeds. It's gift of flight had been taken back and the remains returned to the earth to disintegrate and perhaps provide food for insects or small marauding creatures that lived on the bayou. It had lived, flown, and died all according to plan and purpose. It helped me to remember that there is a plan - in place and in motion all the time, being revised and edited as needed, but ongoing and thought out well in advance.

Perhaps to God, we are all birds of a feather, frail but flying and trying our best to be unafraid of the next landing.