Kolea and I fly
At the time when kolea migrates to the north, last year, I did too. We both traversed oceans and landscapes. Though my emigration from Hawaii at first followed kolea north to Alaska, I then charted a different course that took me to the southeast to the Gulf of Mexico.
Kolea fly an immense non-stop journey to their summering habitat in Alaska. Reports suggest they return to the same place each year to mate, lay eggs and rear their chicks. The birds were in their full breeding plumage, prepared to make their best impression on a mate. I recently learned that, males build a nest in the ground and line it with lichen to attract females. I've always liked lichens. This journey and behaviors are all part of the natural cycle of things for the Pacific golden plover.
I, however, was in disarray. My trip to Alaska was full of flight changes and delays. I listened to my fellow travelers as we waited in the airport lounges for our flights to be rerouted. Shared misery momentarily bonded strangers. Conversations however remained superficial. I did not want to tell anyone that I was in mourning. My professional life felt like it was on life-support. My identity was dead. I didn't know who I was.
Unlike the plover, this was not part of the natural cycle or path for my life, at least as I had imagined it. But, I knew it was coming even though I wanted (and still do) to find a home and a place of peace. From the beginning, I knew Hawai'i was not my forever home. I was always a migrant both personally and professionally. Still the push to take flight was hard.
The escape to Alaska was the first step in my migration. It was still cold in Fairbanks and I was not prepared for the weather. I thought about the kolea landing on the Alaskan shores from Hawaii in just their feather attire, exhausted after their three day flight. Did they notice the cold? I hoped they were warmer than I was.
My sister was moving south and I went along for the drive. We loaded up a U-haul and hitched it up to her trusty Subaru and drove. It was slow because the trailer was too heavy for the vehicle and we had a lot of hills to climb. Over the five days, we had a lot of time to talk, listen to podcasts and think. A lot of the time I didn't think at all. I just looked out the window. I left kolea in Alaska and began a new journey.
It is hard to move, especially if moving to an uncertain future. Fortunately, I had a place to go and a mate waiting for me. He didn't line our nest with lichens. I am grateful for both him and our lichen-less nest. After saying goodbyes to family in California I traveled south and east to Louisiana.
My new home is different and the same. I am different after my time in Hawai'i and the same. In the past several months, I've thought a lot about my path forward and engaged in as much activity as possible to find a niche and reinvent myself. It seems that work is never done. I'm still asking the question, "Where to go from here and now?" I've been trained and adept at thinking forward, planning ahead, and organizing towards a goal.
These days I am rethinking this approach. Maybe my time now is more about rediscovery. Now I am finding joy in seeing osprey, egrets, herons, chickadees, shrikes, mockingbirds, and those little brown birds that are a nightmare to identify. Many are birds I have seen before in different places at different times. Many of them I haven't seen in a long time and need to reacquaint myself with their markings. Yellow bill or black bill. Yellow legs or black legs. Where are those dark patches on the wings? Breeding plumage, juvenile forms. I do not tire of seeing these birds and doing so brings pleasure. I have new birds to learn too. I hope to learn about their stories, transitions and journeys. Maybe I will find one here, like kolea, that helps me understand and rediscover my own journey.
