September 5, 2024
A few evenings ago, I was taking a walk and pondering the dual subject of endings and beginnings in life. My thoughts had just started to turn dark (and lean toward the “endings” side of things) when I looked up and noticed the nighthawks.
Not to be confused with the Edward Hopper painting, a nighthawk is a medium-sized bird known for its sharp call and dizzying flight pattern. In our area, nighthawks form huge flocks to migrate southward at the end of August. It was one of these flocks that I saw feasting on insects above my walking route. Each patch of clear blue sky yielded more birds in constant movement.
I’ve only been blessed with this sight once before, at a prairie remnant farther up the Wisconsin River. I was leading a volunteer event that was brought to an abrupt end by a jet-black thundercloud. A wall of nighthawks fled the approaching storm, backlit by the sunset. It was pure magic.
I don’t know enough about the species to seek out these flocks, and there were no photos taken that night. I had given up hope of ever seeing the nighthawks again. But here they were, just seven years later. As it happens, both times were related to a cause that’s dear to me. The job that saw me hosting an event back then, and the job that was one of the “endings” on my mind, were with the same organization.
Conservationists often talk about phenology, the observation of natural phenomena that occur throughout the year. For example, when the middle of May rolls around, I know it’s time to start looking for chimney swifts at my favorite viewing spot. When the leaves start falling on walnut trees, I know that the summer is nearly over. And as I turn the calendar from August to September in the years to come, I’ll be thinking of nighthawks. These seasons return again and again no matter what else is beginning or ending in my life.
I originally thought of this story as an example of a crazy coincidence — something that united my past and my present. After all, both of my nighthawk sightings happened on the same date (August 30). Now, though, I realize it’s simply a story of finding beauty in a less-than-ideal moment. We can all try to do this with the people and places around us. It helps us rise above a situation to see what’s really important. In this case, I looked up, and I was not disappointed.
Driftless Grace 