I Know What. Let's Not Migrate But Say We Did
On the nature shows we are encouraged to step back and express wonder at the great migratory patterns of the animals of the world.
The animal in question may be the wildebeest; it may be the Monarch butterfly; it may be the salmon, swallow, Arctic tern, caribou, reindeer, bat, great gray owl, sea turtle, locust, dall sheep, or the humpback whale.
The reason for these massive movements from one place to the other are various, and may have to do with the animal’s food source, climate patterns in the habitat, seasonal variations, or what you might call the thrill of romance.
In the case of the arctic tern, which flies in the face of enormous challenges from the Arctic to the Antarctic and then back again year after year, you have to figure, with all the good will in the world, that the bird is some sort of nut. That's a reason of sorts I suppose.
Admirable as these migrations are, there is much that these fine animals do not have to go through.
For instance, as far as is known to science, they do not pack.
For all intents and purposes it seems the lot of them just get together one afternoon early in the week and decide to go.
'Let's do this' is the driving spirit of the enterprise.
Next thing you know there is a great fluttering of wings or splash of fins or thundering of hooves and they are off.
They do not set aside one of the bedrooms as a staging area, nor do they clear out the garage to serve as what you might call the liftoff pad, launching the 28 pieces of luggage into the trunk of the car proper.
They do not have to worry about having three bags, one for the parents, one for the kids, and one for last minute essentials that must at all times be ready to be pulled from the trunk at a moment’s notice.
They do not have to pack the individual suitcases so that Susie's yellow belt is ever and always within the same confines as her yellow dress, or that Johnny’s baseball and baseball glove are inseparable.
For these fine animals, there is none of the high drama of the actual act of packing in the driveway, and therefore there is a subsequent shorfall of neighbors wandering over and advising you to move the red valise over against the left wheelwell, which ought to open up space enough for the one long duffel bag to get squeezed in there right against the spare tire, which by rights will open up a little more room still.
I would guess too that few of these animals have relations along the way, and if they do, they do not wonder if, as long as they are down this far south, they ought to swing over into Arkansas to see Aunt Edna and her second husband Fred – yes, her first husband was named Fred as well – while they are down here, because if the family found out that they were this close and didn’t swing by, the hurt feelings would ring down the years.
These migrating animals too do not have to advise the speaker that her idea of ‘close’ must be a lot different than other people’s, as Edna and Fred live two hundred miles off the interstate, and that’s as the crow flies, no telling how long it would take on these Arkansas roads.
This raises the overall topic of direction-giving altogether, which doesn't seem to take place at all among these animals. The conversation, if it even exists, never rises above the general and the relaxed, as in the following manner:
Lead goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: Look, a bunch of us are thinking about migrating, you and yours are welcome as all get-out to come along.
A regular goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: Migrate? What’s that?
Lead goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: Oh, we just kind of leave from here and bump along until we get to this place down south, then we settle in there.
A regular goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: Man, I don’t know. That sounds mighty haphazard. Which way you going?
Lead goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: Oh, we just kind of head south. It generally works out. It's a nice flight.
A regular goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: It seems to me that if we cross over to the other side of the Continental Divide we can catch a tailwind right around Dubuque, ride the currents down through the Great Plains, pick up the thermals coming off the Mississippi down near St. Louis, head over Albuquerque way, then take a hard left south at the point, that ought to get us in there three, four hours earlier than your way.
Lead goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: Well, we just kind of head south, it works for us.
A regular goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: See here on the map, look what I’m talking about. Look right here. Look.
Lead goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: You know what? I think you’re right! A lot of people are perfectly content staying put, and you know what? I admire that! We’ll just go on without you and send you a post card when we get there. You just relax here, a lot of people like seeing the four seasons! Nothing wrong with that!
A regular goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: And the little lady has this Aunt Edna in Arkansas, she and her second husband Fred – yes, the first husband was named Fred too – would love it if we could swing by.
Lead goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: A postcard in the mail the moment we pull in, I promise! Gotta run now, we’re all taking off for this epic journey or what not, I’m supposed to be leading the pack.
A regular goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: You want to avoid the toll roads if you can in Oklahoma if at all possible, see, I’ve got this notion that if we stick to the back roads…
Lead goose or Monarch butterfly or Capistrano swallow: Can’t hear you, my friend, I’m pretty high up by now. Catch me when we get back!
I will say finally that these animals in their thousands and millions make such good time and cover so many miles because they never stop for reptile farms, two-headed calf exhibits, the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, Corn Castle Festivals, any theme park of any description whatsoever, and they especially avoid situations where members of their species are dressed up as cowpokes, gunfighters, blacksmiths, butter churners, candle dippers, knights, maidens, cartoon characters, Olde Storytellers or the like, nor do they pay for the pleasure of these fine individuals’ company, and so when they do reach their destination, they have a little pocket change left to their name.
No, I am impressed enough with these vast animal migrations, and I wish them well, but as to the true rigors of travel, your average wildebeest or humpbacked whale has no idea, no idea at all.
