Being one of twelve children does not always mean that you have someone with which to spend time. Our family tended to divide itself into cliques, among ourselves and also among our neighbors. Judy, who lived across the street, was close in age to both my next oldest sister and me, so we both spent time with her. Judy also had a pony, which made her place an even more inviting destination. Of course, at age nine or so, almost anywhere except home would be more inviting, pony or not.
One day, as I was helping Judy curry her pony, she looked up and asked, “What’s that?” Swiveling, I covered my eyes and saw a speck on the horizon in the clear blue sky. “Prob’ly just a plane,” I replied, and turned my attention back to the curry comb. We combed and talked some more, and then she said, “It’s getting bigger!” I turned again, and sure enough, the speck had grown. “It’s not a plane,” I said, stepping away slightly as if I would actually get a better viewing angle on the object. “I can’t tell what it is,” I said. We both continued to stand there, curry combs in hand, pony waiting patiently for more attention, as the speck grew and grew.
It was long, and thin, whatever it was, and our curiosity continued to hold us spellbound. It grew longer and longer, never leaving the horizon but growing towards us, like yarn from a skein. It wasn’t until it was overhead that we could determine what it was…
Birds! A huge, long flock of birds! They were some kind of sparrow, maybe, flying in formation. As near as I could tell, they were flying about 10 deep, about 20-30 feet wide, and the sides straight as if they had been sliced with a knife. Even the front was only barely ragged, mostly straight across. They were flying low enough that we could hear them and see individual birds. There were no loud sounds, only soft chirping as they carried on whatever conversations birds have while flying so close together. And the sound of their flying – like the whisper of wishes on a soft spring breeze. It was like a waterfall of air, brushing gently over rocks as it made its way to whatever final destination lay ahead. Judy and I were hypnotized, watching and listening. At one point, the line of birds stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction, still in formation. Finally, the line of birds ended, and we continued to watch until they were a speck again, on the opposite horizon.
Judy and I looked at each other. Words failed us for several more minutes. “No one’ll ever believe us,” I said. It was unbelievable that nobody else in the neighborhood had seen this event, but Judy and I were the only ones granted the privilege of sharing this enchanting moment.