Something Beautiful

I saw something beautiful yesterday. Then, a couple hours and many miles later, I saw it again.

Perhaps I should say “them.” They were a flock of large white birds, heading to their summer breeding grounds. They were solid white, no black wing tips or other markings, so I can tell you for sure some kinds of birds they weren't. I know they weren’t trumpeter swans or storks, for example. Since there were over 300 of them, by estimation, and, again, the no black wings thing, they also weren’t whooping cranes. The possibility exists they were tundra swans, but I’m only going by descriptions, having never seen birds identified to me as such. They were flying high enough that any black on face or feet was not distinguishable. The general body shape was heavy like a goose or swan, not a thin body like an egret, and the neck was extended, again unlike an egret. Besides, it’s way too early for egrets. Herons get here first, and they are due to start arriving next week.

The flock was more like a pair of flocks flying together. Well over 200 birds were flying in what I would describe as a big ball of strings of birds, each string moving around, twisting, intertwining, and reforming, but always staying within the large ball of birds, The second flock, trailing the first by about the distance that stretched across the ball of birds, was v-shaped. Like a typical V-shaped flock, different individuals would take point position, then be replaced by another, then another.

OK, you are saying by now, she saw a flock of big birds. Big deal. And you’d be right, at least about that part of it.. But that’s not the remarkable, beautiful part.

When I saw the flock, I was northbound just after noon on Hwy. 52, somewhere near Canon Falls. The sun was behind me, shining fully on the birds. They were not just white, they shone and reflected the sunlight. Every downward wingbeat was a bright flash of light. Every bird. Every wingbeat.

It was breathtaking.

The flock moved gradually westward on its northern trek, and as soon as the sun angle changed relative to me, they disappeared into the sky. Had I pulled the car over and stopped, likely I could still have seen them, but I was in a hurry and the magic of the moment was gone.

A couple hours later, as I was heading eastward on the Crosstown out of Minnetonka/Eden Prairie area, with the sun again at my back, I glanced up at the sky and saw the same flock of birds! It was the same approximate count, the same pairing of ball and v shapes, about the perfect spot if they continued their trajectory and with just the right timing. And for several minutes, until the sun angle changed and they once again disappeared, I beheld the same miracle of flashing light off every wingbeat, every bird.