Bird Envy

Well, birdbrain, how are you going to get out of this one? You are a thousand feet in the air, dangling from a piece of cloth and a few cables, with a motor that is about to run out of gas. My landing options are ditching in the roiling surf directly below me, or attempting to glide into the nearby tree-covered mountains. Either option will cause me a great deal of pain, if I’m lucky, or death if I’m not.

As far back as I can remember, a bird’s ability to fly has fascinated me. When I was a toddler, I would run around flapping my arms and jumping into the air, hoping to fly. It made little sense to my young mind that these small creatures could fly and I couldn’t. As I got older, I began jumping off anything that gave me some distance from the ground, hoping the extra altitude would help me take flight. It took a broken arm to convince me of the folly of my ways.

I couldn’t fly like a bird, but I could learn about flying. Kites, model airplanes, and model rockets were the only toys I played with. Other kids played baseball or football. I happily piloted radio-controlled planes. My one-track mind told me that once I turned sixteen, I’d take some lessons and earn my wings.

Every story ends with, happily ever after, until you reach your teens. Then reality smacks you in the head. I came from a poor family. Mom and Dad worked full time. My father picked up any additional part-time work he could find. Finding money for flying lessons was out of the question, and so was college. The day after I graduated from high school, I went to work full-time at a car wash. Even the military wouldn’t let me fly without a college degree. With my dream of soaring into the clouds on permanent hold, I went back to envying the birds as they circled overhead.

Ten years passed. Financially, I was better off, but still watching the birds, unable to find the extra money to become a pilot. I thought it was time to abandon my childhood dream when I saw an ad in the local paper. Paraglider For Sale - Pilot’s License Not Required. I had to read it twice more before accepting it was real. My fingers shook with excitement as I dialed the number. Two weeks later, I made my first solo flight.

From that point on, if I wasn’t working or sleeping, I was living my dream, chasing the clouds. Everything on the ground was much more beautiful from a thousand feet in the air. Seeing the sun’s rays dancing off an entire lake instead of a small section of it was spectacular. Drinking in the multicolored vistas was breathtaking. So much to see, so little time to experience it. That was about to change.

I put in for two weeks’ vacation, packed up my car, bought a trailer for the paraglider, and headed for the coast. Flying along the ocean involves a unique skill set. The updrafts and shifting winds can easily blow a light aircraft far off course. Several of the local glider pilots advised me to stay clear of an area called The Point, especially when the tide was coming in. Treacherous wind shears and powerful gusts were always present in that area. I thanked them for their advice and got my craft ready to fly. Watching the surf pound the shore in the foreground with tree-covered mountains as a backdrop was mesmerizing. I literally threw caution to the wind and let the breeze take me wherever it chose. Unfortunately for me, it chose The Point.

My carefree scenic soaring suddenly turned into a flight of terror as the crosswinds and updrafts pulled and tossed my tiny craft, threatening to tear it to shreds. Fear raced through me as I struggled to maintain control. From out of nowhere, an osprey appeared alongside me, looking directly into my eyes. It seemed to want me to follow its lead, which I happily did. I swooped and dove, mimicking my guide until we were free of the turbulence. My savior looked over at me, let out a caw, and flew away.

Birds will always rule the skies.