The Gathering

There are two times of the year, the spring and the fall, when Gary and I take pilgrimages over to the 480 acre swamp at Van Patten Road west of Shiocton.  In the spring, the swamp serves as a resting spot for migrating waterfowl.  In the fall, it is a gathering spot for several species of birds preparing for the journey south.

This evening, we threw our cameras and binoculars into the van and took a drive to see what was happening out there.  The cold nights and sunny days bring on those instincts that the birds have survived with for centuries.  Sure enough, thousands of blackbirds were raising their voices in the reeds until in a sudden spasm of excitement, they rose up, swirling around in huge masses, yet never ever running into each other.  It's an aerodynamic miracle.  Then they settled into the grasses and began to sing again.

Mallards flew by quacking and from time to time, duck hunters' rifles popped.  So far as we could see from the observation deck, none of them managed to shoot anything.

As the sun was setting, we spotted the great blue herons, also gathering for their flight south.  In one flock, Gary counted 42 and gave up.  We had never seen so many great blues in one spot.

In final glory, the sun went down and we called it a night.

We came home tired and bedazzled.  Forget yesterday's nothingness.  This was really something!