I don’t remember when I first heard the German word zugunruhe. Although zugunruhe means the unrest of animals during migration, I always associate it with autumn. In Fairbanks, autumn comes in fast. The August rains go from hints of the tropics, to laced with the bite of winter. Everywhere are the signs of zugunruhe. Mixed foraging flocks of migratory birds occupy the branches of the spruces and swarm over the forest floor. Humans also turn into mixed foraging flocks: a desperation of berry collecting, garden harvesting, fishing, and for some, hunting. A weather clock looms in your head, counting down the days to the autumnal equinox, to the first frost, to the first snow. When the birds begin to depart, the alarm begins to chime. Great flocks of Sandhill Cranes gather into whirling clouds of calling birds, poised to flee during breaks in weather. And later in the season, the Trumpeter and Tundra Swans take to the skies. I have very vivid memories of walking beneath a full moon in October, listening to the whistling communication of migrating swans.
After I finished writing this, I stepped outside to sit in the sun, and my yard had a mixed flock of Cedar Waxwings and sparrows in our trees. Please share your observations, I would love to hear from you.
Gorgeous post. Beautiful reflections. And the term zugunruhe is new for me. It's such a magical time of transition. I share your tendency to feel very awake and grounded you feel in new places. My mind craves novelty!
Zugunruhe is also my favorite time of the year. The sound of crackling leaves under my steps awakes the adventurous child in me. Although nature in motion is not easily noticeable in New York, a city that seems in perpetual motion. Yet autumn still invites us to consider the privilege of the roof above our head and the earlier nights enticing us to cuddle up on the couch with loved ones, or a book.
The rains returned to Seattle: cold, wet, grey. The bigger drops pelt windows, the smaller ones mist every surface. It's time to dig out the rain fenders, wool socks, and bright rain jackets and embrace bottom bracket deep puddles that could swallow you whole.
Living on Cape Cod, flocks of humans begin their migration in the fall. Docks disappear from the water, harbingers of colder weather. My pickleball practice partner leaves mid October for Florida. Dogs will soon be allowed on the beach.
After I finished writing this, I stepped outside to sit in the sun, and my yard had a mixed flock of Cedar Waxwings and sparrows in our trees. Please share your observations, I would love to hear from you.
Gorgeous post. Beautiful reflections. And the term zugunruhe is new for me. It's such a magical time of transition. I share your tendency to feel very awake and grounded you feel in new places. My mind craves novelty!
Zugunruhe is also my favorite time of the year. The sound of crackling leaves under my steps awakes the adventurous child in me. Although nature in motion is not easily noticeable in New York, a city that seems in perpetual motion. Yet autumn still invites us to consider the privilege of the roof above our head and the earlier nights enticing us to cuddle up on the couch with loved ones, or a book.
The rains returned to Seattle: cold, wet, grey. The bigger drops pelt windows, the smaller ones mist every surface. It's time to dig out the rain fenders, wool socks, and bright rain jackets and embrace bottom bracket deep puddles that could swallow you whole.
Living on Cape Cod, flocks of humans begin their migration in the fall. Docks disappear from the water, harbingers of colder weather. My pickleball practice partner leaves mid October for Florida. Dogs will soon be allowed on the beach.
This is my very favorite time of year. Beautiful.