‘Dance of the Black Leaves’

By Bill



There is an annual event that occurs, usually in the first couple of weeks into November, that I hope you have witnessed at least once in your lifetime. It has made such an impression on me that I begin to anticipate this episode in the waning days of October. The proud trees are in their glory, the grass is as green as it is ever going to be and the birds above are just now thinking about migration.
I feel fortunate to live in the countryside where plants and animals catch my attention on a daily basis. At this point in the season it seems that they stand out in such solitary fashion in the open fields or along the wood line. I always notice the huge aging tree standing alone while showing off its magnificent form in the midst of so many acres of recently harvested farm land. I spy the fat groundhog on his hind legs surveying his surroundings from atop the knoll near the creek. Detecting motion in the distance, I catch a glimpse of the waving white flags belonging to the two Does just disappearing into the twilight as they bound back to the security of the wood. Watching the solo flight of a hawk soaring high above hunting grounds in such smooth circles has always caught my eye.
Driving home from work, my favorite miles are near my home, away from the busy highways and onto the tranquil hum of the two lane roads surrounded by farmed land. As I am driving I glanced, as I usually do, at the century-old farmhouse down the long lane surrounded by six large cottonwood trees. Something made me slow down and pulled me left into the driveway to get a closer look at the trees that were leafless just the day before. At first glance from the main road the trees were full once again, only now their leaves were now black! Half way down the quarter-mile lane I stopped my truck and got out. I first noticed the chatter, the unruly noise of so many speaking at the same time. Closing my door was the last sound that I heard for the next several minutes. Stone silence. The slamming of the truck door set in motion ‘the dance of the black leaves’. There were hundreds, no, no,… thousands of blackbirds that took flight at the exact same moment, swirling, diving, turning and twisting in concert with one another. I was in awe of this spectacle; nothing else was going on in my world apart from this hypnotic symphony being played out above me. As if completing their dress rehearsal, they soon returned to rest and perched in the same cottonwood trees around the abandoned farm house. They began the noisy discussion once again about when they would leave to go south for the winter.


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