Of a Feather
Every year about this time, College Station’s parking lots become home to thousands of birds. There are several spots around town that are filled with squawking grackles (at least, I’m told they’re grackles).
The birds speckle the power lines by my exit on the highway. They circle above the grocery store. They perch in the trees near the gas station. It seems they’re most active around dusk.
I find their behavior really intriguing. Where have they come from? Where do they go when they’re not pooping on shopping carts and taunting drivers? What are they saying to each other in their disjointed chirps? Why do a few stragglers sit alone farther down the power line?
I like to watch them from my car window, theorizing about their migratory future.
Will they choose where they go they next or will it choose them? Perhaps, it is not instinct alone that keeps them flocking together. Perhaps, no matter how big or small, we all need someone with whom we can share our journey.
[...] Fall is back and so are those damn birds. [...]