Southbound

As a young ornithologist, migration patterns were something that always allured me, particularly that of a Canadian goose. I always wished I could get inside the mind of birds, be able to know why they behave in their mesmerizing ways, not just spew inaccurate speculations of what we think we know. No, I wanted to really, truly possess the knowledge that birds hold.

Now, at hundreds of feet above the ground in the middle of a migration of Canadian geese, I fear I may have been too ambitious for my own good. You see, as an avid lover of science, I always wanted to push the boundaries of biology, and of humans. So, after decades of work, much scientific advancement, and a heated obsession with the life of birds, I was able to splice my human genetics to those of a Canadian goose. The transformation was grueling, but to me, it was worth it to achieve this dream of mine. I could finally now understand why birds think the way they do. By all respects, it’s one of the greatest biological discoveries of human existence. I proved what was thought to be impossible.

And yet.

Something feels… wrong.

I’m flying with a flock of geese southbound, living my dream, soaring through the air on black, brown and white wings. Feathers of luxurious down underneath silky, glossy flight feathers, a black “mask” wrapped around my eyes, wonderful hollow bones ideal for flight. But the longer I fly in my state of bliss the more I start to realize something. That wrong feeling itches at the back of my mind. I still think like a human, my mind is still that of a scientific man, not a goose. Did I fail? Is there no hope for me at all to be able to connect with these marvelous beasts in a way they could understand? On their own wavelength?

The wind rustles through my feathers, sweeping across my newly aerodynamic body, and I hardly feel the cold that my previous human form could never withstand. Gazing out to the sky I see the clouds overhead, and though they are still so far away, I’ve never felt so close to them, not even having been in an airplane. Out here, I am experiencing the true feeling of flight, of freedom. I feel home in the sky, and if not for running out of stamina, I would never return to the ground. I’m pulled from my disappointingly human thoughts by the honking of the other geese around me. Where others hear something annoying, or unremarkable, I hear the most glorious, emotional chorus emanating from the black, elongated throats of the geese.

But that isn’t the only thing; it’s not just a beautiful song, but a language I can now understand as if it were my own native tongue. The sounds come from the lead goose, signaling that the order will be rotated. Geese have a fascinating nature to care for others in the group by taking “shifts” during their flights, where when the geese at the front become tired, they move to the back, easily coasting on the air current of the geese in the front. This allows the geese to be able to go on such long migrations, for hours at a time. It is I who takes up the rear, which means it is my turn to go to the front. Nerves wrack my body, and I feel my heart trembling within my feathered chest. What if I fail the flock and lead us in the wrong direction? Thoughts swirl through my head, but once again, the geese honk to one another. They’re giving… directions? The way these birds communicate never ceases to amaze me. Every member makes sure the flock stays on track, due south. Such phenomenal creatures.

As I situate at the front of the flock, I come to peace knowing that while my brain might remain partly human, the rest of me is on a wavelength with the creatures I’ve adored for my entire life. Everyone has dreams of flying, but I, I am the man who finally accomplished this, truly. Forget airplanes, hot air balloons, blimps, none of that. I am more than a man. I have dedicated my life to this research, succeeded where countless have failed, I have risen above them all. As I fly away with my flock to destinations unknown, I feel excitement at the liberation engulfing me. A weight lifts from my sore shoulders, and I can feel the petty worries of my human life slipping away from me. I look down to see the trees and ground sweeping past me, dappled with rivers, creeks, and ponds here and there, even a couple flocks of birds, miles below us. The scenic landscape is broken up by roadways, and the occasional highway, but I do my best not to pay mind to them. I never liked highways anyway.

To my right, the sun is beginning to set, but the flock still has a way to fly. The sky is painted with dazzling pink, purple, yellow, orange, and deep blues as the stars scatter overhead. Soon we will roost for the night and prepare to do it again tomorrow. I relish the simplicity of the task. For now, I lead my flock on gusts of wind carrying us farther and farther away from the weights that used to hold me down, keeping me out of the sky.

My heart swells with joy; I am finally free.