Rain drops hung from the tree branches, the ground was damp, and the river was full. Changing things up, I strolled down the Perkiomen trail yesterday morning for an early walk. The paved pathway way empty, besides one friendly, hooded man who passed by. To my left was the mountain, covered in boulders, bare trees, and decaying light-orange leaves. On my right was the flowing river, with the occasional boulder holding it’s position above the water.
Two minutes into my walk, I gazed over at the river, and suddenly a large blue heron took-off in the opposite direction. The bird grazed above the water as it flew to its next perching spot. This occurrence was my second encounter with a heron in the past week, in fact, it may have been the same one.
I continued to ramble on down the path, snapping photos of the serenity surrounding me. Only moments later, I peek up, and soaring above the river was an enormous hawk, scouting out prey. “My god,” I thought. I observed it sail gracefully towards the bridge. It may have been the time of day (morning), but it is rare to encounter two majestic birds on this path. With that, it may have been an omen.
As I proceeded down the path, the hooded man approached from the opposite direction, already completing his rounds.
“Did you see the gigantic hawk? Holy shit was that thing big. I never see hawks around here.” He said as he nodded his head in shock.
I agreed. On the way back, however, no birds were spotted, but I proceeded to absorb the tranquility around me. In addition, in the back of my head those bird sightings stirred up wild thoughts. Maybe there was an underlying message, I thought.
Photo from San Francisco (no great photos taken yesterday)