There are Native American beliefs that hold that certain birds should be called upon when a shaman asks the gods for aid on behalf of mortals. This has something to do with the fact that the pewee, hawk, flycatcher and martin do not miss their prey. I like to think it is also, at least for the martins, because they are fantastic fliers. The “heavens” are their playground and they love to let the featherless below know that.
An unchoreographed dance plays out over your head here at the farm. Swallows and martins circle and dart. Mom and dad love watching them show off. Between the birds, the green, the cats and the breeze, there is constant movement and entertainment. So this morning the birds are swooping low. Dad says it feels like rain, but it doesn’t look like it. I think the aerialists are telling me something. Coming down so I can send a wish to the gods. Look after these people, look after this place.
Until I return and after.