The last of the purple martins departed Highcliff on Aug. 9. The colony site by the garden is now utterly silent. I miss the cheerful martins and all the life that they bring to the farm.
But, they’ve got their schedule, dictated by the instinct instilled in them by Mother Nature to follow, while we humans have our timetable to follow.
I won’t be crossing the Gulf of Mexico on a wing and a prayer like the martins. I won’t be flying over the rainforests of Brazil, down below the equator, like the martins.