It was a warm day for Wisconsin in March. Thus, I proposed to make the meeting with colleagues at the Oneida Nation Community Health Center an outdoor one, a walk-n-talk type of meeting.
As we strolled along, I heard something faint and familiar.
I couldn’t quite make it out and had just about forgotten it when I heard it
again, slightly louder this time.
A unique, guttural, bugle call that can be heard 2.5 miles
from its source.
The sandhill cranes were here!
I am a big fan of these birds, waiting each October for the
first sound of their calls. Squinting as I look up to find the source of the
noise, as sandhill cranes fly quite high in the sky. I imagine their thousands
of miles journey to make it here, often arriving in a state of severe
malnutrition. Then, over the next months, choosing my runs and hikes to
maximize chances of seeing sedges (a group of cranes) of these majestic beings
as they congregate along the Rio Grande. Finally, the sad good-bye as we hit
February and the cranes make their way north again.
So, it was in this context that hearing the cranes as we
walked, some 1400 miles from Albuquerque, brought a joy to my heart.
I am sure that to an ornithologist, there is nothing profound
about what I experienced.
To me, it was life teaching that the cycles and patterns of our world are so much bigger than us. As New Mexicans say our sad goodbye to the cranes each February, the northern states get to welcome them back. And the birds don’t care about any of it. They are just following their innate intelligence about where they belong at a given moment.
It was life reminding me (us)
that we are always closer to the
places and spaces
we know as "home"
than we think.
May we all inhabit our own unique innate nature. Tlazocamati hermano.
ReplyDeleteWhat a magical world you live in Dr. Fleg. Thank you for bringing us in and allowing us to experience it with you.
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