I am reflecting on birds, specifically sea birds, and
how, for the most part, with some lovely variations, they all look the same.
(A few browns ones stuck here and there in the midst of all
the black, gray and white plumage.)
Even so, large and small, pretty much the same.
I’ve noticed how, for the most part, they stay fairly close together,
allowing for some space and, for the most part,
seem to ignore the other birds around them;
perhaps, it is pretty congenial—
although this morning I watched one work hard and nasty
at staking out territory.
I notice that, for the most part, they are pretty quiet
—a few screeches—
unless something riles them; it stays pretty solemn.
They also don’t move out of the shallows—
running in and out according to the tide and surf,
not really going anywhere;
a few venture out in the deep, but not for long;
(The pelicans don’t hang around the others, spending
their time floating effortlessly just above the contours of the sea.)
For the most part, the gulls keep their asses dry.
Most impressive, to me, is
how these birds stand pretty much facing the land,
looking away from the dangerous beauty of the ocean behind them,
away from the deep.
Diagonal to the sun.
I have been reflecting on congregations this morning.