Dad pulled the car to a stop, and as the doors swung open, the scent of wild grass and pine greeted us. Tom, my older brother Rick, Harriet—the youngest—and I tumbled out, our eyes wide as we caught glimpses of broad wings circling above. "Alright, explorers, let’s see who spots the first hawk," he said, his voice full of warmth and excitement.
We claimed a spot in the front row, our knees nearly brushing the soft earth. Harriet clung to Dad’s hand, her eyes darting at every flutter of wings. Rick was already craning his neck, scanning for any sign of a dive. "Look, is that an eagle, Dad?" I asked, pointing at a massive bird gliding overhead. "That's a red-tailed hawk, but we’ll see an eagle soon," he replied with a knowing smile.
Dad leaned forward, his eyes shining as the American Eagle took center stage, its feathers gleaming against the sunlight. Harriet shrank back as a vulture landed nearby, its bald head swiveling, but she giggled when a snowy owl blinked its golden eyes at her. Rick cheered when a falcon stooped overhead, wind whistling through its wings, and even I felt a thrill as a hawk snatched a piece of meat in midair.
Dad shared stories about each bird—their homelands, their habits, the way they survived in the wild. "The eagle is not just a symbol," he explained, "it’s a survivor. A master of the winds." Tom and Rick listened intently, while Harriet shyly reached out as an owl’s feathers brushed against her fingers.
Rick was still talking about the falcon’s stoop as we walked back to the car, mimicking its dive with his arms outstretched. Harriet clutched a feather given to her by a smiling trainer, and Dad ruffled my hair as I recounted every detail of the eagle’s flight. "There’s a whole world in every bird," he said quietly, "and in every day we spend together."
Rick now keeps parrots and finches, coaxing wild birds to eat from his hand just as Dad once did. The lessons of those summer days echo in every flutter of wings and every story shared. I realize that those weekends were never just about birds—they were about love, knowledge, and the memories that take flight and never truly land.
