The blackbirds that flew me to a better place

Last summer, when Adela was about 7 weeks old, I stayed up at the cabin for a week with her and my mother-in-law. I finally felt a little relaxed, the pain and trauma of a horrific hospital experience wearing off a bit.

A lot of that was helped by a giant flock of red-winged blackbirds that flew by the cabin, thousands of them on the move to the wetlands north of here. It was misty, and their bright shock of wing feathers stood out against the fog, the pale green hemlock needles, and the dark shale rock cliffs that the cabin sits upon.

Some stopped and chatted, before taking aloft again. I watched and watched, breathing.

Now, at night, I sometimes dream about the blackbirds, their cackles and spirals through the ravine lifting me up with them, to a better place.

This Saturday during Girls’ Weekend 2014, we visited the wetlands and the roosting blackbirds. And a pair of doting bald eagle parents. And their fluffy 5-week-old eaglet!

But only the blackbirds welcomed photos. The eagles were too far off, even with my telephoto lens. 


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