... Karen actually submits a post. I've been to Plum Island almost every day for the past week-- it's tree swallow migration time, a new end of summer/beginning of fall ritual for me to enjoy. Every evening around sunset, thousands-- and I mean thousands-- of tree swallows sweep over the island as they prepare to roost for the night.
So I leave work, drive to the Parker River Wildlife Refuge, and park in the dirt lot at the "North Pool Overlook"-- a favorite roosting place of said swallows. After drowning myself liberally in insect repellant, I ensconce myself on the hood of my car, and spend the next few hours watching the show. To my right, unbelievable sunsets over the river-- even though it's August, the slight evening chill of fall has been in the air, and the sunsets are decidedly fall-like as well. More pink and orange with lots of streaky clouds than the humid hazy reds of high summer. To my left, the moon-rise over the scrub pines. And all around me, swarming, swirling-- swallows, swallows, swallows.
They come in waves, sweeping the fields and then up over the dike and skimming the pond, in a pre-bedtime feeding frenzy. The air is thick with them, and they chatter incessantly as they swirl, oblivious to anything-- or anyone-- in their way. It's like being in a giant snowglobe that someone has just shaken frantically; they sweep so close to me that I could reach out and grab one if only I were quick enough.
And then, in the blink of an eye, as though one single bird has perhaps given the grand cue, they roost.
Silence.
I drive home with the windows down and the radio off, feeling like I'm 13 and there just might be a door to a magical land at the back of my closet...
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OH MY GOD I started CRYING when I read your post!!!! I'm afraid if I wax TOO rhapsodic, you'll never post again, but that's a risk I'm willing to take. I can just see the swallow's unison motion -- it reads as beautifully as Ray Bradbury.....
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