October Moon

For an Iowa waterfowler, few events spark the imagination or bring a higher level of anticipation than the arrival of October’s full moon.  The night air is crisp, humidity is dropping, a rising breeze is shifting to the northwest.  By the time midnight rolls around, it’s becoming downright chilly, and the landscape becomes covered in a sparkling blanket of frost.  The stage is set. The signs are undeniable.  This night is made for migration.  Southbound birds of all shapes and sizes will be taking to the skies.

Except for the resonate hooting of a nearby pair horned owls, the night has been mostly silent so far.  And then you hear it, the faint sound of birdlife coming from far to the north.  Their identity is easy to discern.  Even at a distance, the distinctive clamor Canada geese is unmistakable.  Serving as spokesman for a host of feathery creatures both great and small, the nighttime honking of migrating geese is the signature sound of autumn.

The calls’ volume steadily intensifies.  The sound becomes incredible.  In the thin fall atmosphere, you feel as if you could almost reach out and touch the birds you can hear but not see.  There is excitement in the voices, and the notes tell you that the birds are now passing overhead.  And then you see them.  A broken line of giant birds etched against the icy whiteness of October’s full moon.  Ancient and breathtaking, the sight is enough to give you — well – to give you goose bumps.

Briefly reaching its crescendo, the sound rapidly diminishes as the birds disappear into the southern sky.  The hour is late, but the sound of traveling geese has peaked your senses and you’re in no mood for sleep.  Tonight is the night.  Canada geese, along with representatives from dozens of other avian families, are engaged in an epic nighttime journey; each charting its course for the distant winter home of its ancestors.  Although you have no wings, your earthbound spirit journeys with them.