First flight

The autumn winds are blowing, stronger day by day. While the days are still pleasantly warm, the nights are becoming chilly and the mornings are crisp. You can see your breath in the grey dawn. The leaves are falling. There is a deep ache inside me, a yearning. I am restless. I must leave, fly away to – well somewhere else. Others have left already but my flock is still here. We are still feeding and resting but I can feel the same undercurrent of urgency in the others. It is almost time to go.

I have grown all this summer, no longer a clumsy gosling but a powerful bird with a finely curving black neck and great strong wings. Swimming, flying, diving – they all come naturally to me now. There is no fear of the cold depths and the empty blue skies in me at all. I am ready, though for what I do not yet know. Perhaps tomorrow will tell. Perhaps tomorrow will be the day to give in to this wild longing that has taken over my being, this wild longing to fly away into the unknown.

It is tomorrow and there is no sunrise. The fog is cold and thick and wet. I can hear the flock calling. We are finally leaving. The oldest is at the head. He has become our guard and guide ever since his mate was lost to the hunters and their dogs a month ago. Slowly we whirl across the water and reeds that are the only home I have ever known. I know no other but I am certain that I will return here when summer comes again. We turn and wheel higher and higher, slowly settling into a V behind the leader. He keeps a steady pace, honking in the fog so that we can find him. I can just see the bird in front of me. At least I can take comfort in the even flapping of wings and deep breaths that whisper around me. I am somewhere in the middle of our formation.

It is noon and the sun has finally warmed my stiff limbs. I rejoice in my own strength and the fresh air around me. We are so high that the earth below is a vague blur of color, green grass, fiery leaves, grey buildings and roads. I could do this forever! I am invincible, the sharp ache to leave has given way to a fierce but joyful determination to keep flying and flying.

As the sun goes down in a glorious burst of crimson, we keep going. The thrill of having finally started keeps us flying late into the night, the stars flying in a dizzy spin above us in the deep black sky. When the night grows old we settle down on a grassy meadow beside a small stream to sleep. We huddle together as the cold creeps into our limbs and we grow stiff. Tomorrow we will warm them again as we take up the journey again.

We have been flying for many days now. The first few were painful. Powerful as my youth is, it takes time to become accustomed to flying for such long distances. We have had days of rain when the cold is like a knife deep in your bones and no amount of flapping can warm you. We have had bright, clear days when flying is pleasant, and we could continue into the night. We have had days of such strong wind that we had to stop and wait for it to die down. Those are the worst. Sitting, waiting, all the while with this burning urge to fly because time is running out. We have seen the first snow, delightful on the ground but painfully soaking you and getting in your eyes when you fly. In bad weather all the older ones take turns in the lead to break the wind. When the leader cannot bear the strain anymore, another takes his place. I know that my turn will come when I must be the one who leads, who battles ahead and fights for those behind me.

Today we lost my mother. I have in some ways outgrown her, but I still feel the emptiness of her place in the formation as we fly. Yesterday we fought a terrible headwind and when we settled down for the night, she had trouble breathing. This morning she did not get up. My father stayed behind with her for a long time. We could hear him calling and calling, a wild lonely call that remained unanswered. By nightfall he caught up with us, alone.

The weather is beginning to change. The air is moist but warm. There are no more icy winds and cold rain. The vegetation is changing too. Perhaps we are nearing our destination. I hope so. The ache to fly has become dull, it has become a grim determination to just get through the day. We have all lost weight and condition. We are slower and covering less distance each day. We lost two others besides my mother, one to exhaustion and one to a fox in the night.

Today we saw another flock in the distance. They were not familiar, but the sight lifted my spirits. We must be getting close to the end.

We have arrived. Today is the first day in what seems like forever that we are not flying. No more trembling muscles, no more groaning stomach. No more fighting the weather. We are here and here is good. The weather is warm, sometimes even hot. There is water everywhere and enough food to fill our bellies a hundred times over. There are new birds and acquaintances from the old nesting grounds. Best of all, there are no human homes nearby, which hopefully means that there are no hunters and no dogs. I cannot wait to explore but now it feels as though I cannot wake up and I will not fight the feeling. I must rest first.