Sunday – I went running this morning in the clear cold air. I came upon a flock of migrating black birds – hundreds, maybe more than a thousand of them. They seemed to be on every branch of every tree. Some were on the road, and a guy had to blow his horn to clear a way to his driveway. The sound of all those birds took me back over thirty years to the first time I came upon such a group. I was walking in the woods to Lake Matoaka to take pictures. I was checking my camera as I walked and suddenly realized I was surrounded by an incredibly loud noise. “What IS that?” I thought. I looked up and was surrounded by birds everywhere. So of course I immediately thought of Hitchcock’s “The Birds.” It was like being swallowed up by a great big living, vibrating-with-sound-and-movement organism. I walked along more slowly and mindfully and just watched in amazement. I remember that day there were at least two or three species each in their vast group. This morning I just smiled at all the racket and hoped nobody rained on me as they flew over and I ran in their shadows. I wondered what it was like in the days when passenger pigeons were still alive and their flocks would block out the sun for days because their numbers were so large as they crossed the sky. And now there are none, thanks to people. A few moments later a shot rang out somewhere down across one of the ravines. The woods immediately became silent. Within a few moments, the bells of a church over in Toano started to ring through the woods in the direction from where the birds originally came. I kept going with the only sounds that of a few local birds that live here year around, and the sound of the bells. A few seconds the only sounds were just a couple of crows and sparrows and my footsteps. I got back to the house and listened intently and maybe about a half mile or so across the ravine, I could hear the cacophony of birds again, recovered, back in the groove, calling out to each other and the world, carrying on their journey. My run became a meditation of yin and yang.

Tuesday – Another running morning this time in the cold damp gray overcast of a day between winter storms. I passed by a man unloading his pickup of his hunting gear. About a mile later I passed a woman in her front yard smiling with joy and wonder at a small deer in her front yard. She was holding her hand out to the deer trying to get him to come to her. I thought of a time years ago at Bryce Canyon as I walked along with a young summer ranger intern. He was studying ecology in graduate school. Every time we came upon one of the little ground squirrels that frequent the trails, he would stomp his foot and scare them away. “You don’t want to habituate them to people,” he said. The deer today was already pretty habituated, and getting more so. Every action we take is linked to everything, and our intentions don’t always play out in a way we hope for or even think about. A gesture of felt kindness and wonder may have consequences we are not mindful of – like making a deer more vulnerable as prey.  You really can look into any action, or even a bowl of rice, and see that we are connected to everything in the infinity of time and space. Every why has a why. I kept running. A mile or so later I was in the part of the neighborhood bordering on deep woods. A single shot rang out. I just kept running.