This poem was written about a day at Canopy Tower in Panama rain forest in November 2009. Returning to the Tower we were urged to look into the air where over 40,000 hawks and vultures were circling .
Click click, click click, click click, click click.
Before man learnt control of fire
birds learnt that hot air rises
click click, click click, click click, click click.
But only humans learn useful tricks
like counting large numbers in patterns
Click click, click click, click click, click click.
Like a quilt close stitched in blackened thread
the autumn migrants hang overhead,
floating South, from the colder North
riding hot air plumes rising on the isthmus
avoiding the sea that offers little lift.
Minimal wing beat skims them to thermals
where ‘kettles’ of birds rise in roiling spirals
overboiling at height to a new glide way.
The counter is thumbed in constant clatter
Click click, click click, click click, click click.
Ten raptors counted at each pressure
not numbered pedantically one to ten,
but logged in a pattern of bird to sky.
An empiric skill that measures the mêlée
and notes the hunters by their specie.
Forty one thousand masking the sun,
Broad Wing Hawks form nearly three quarters
outnumbering the Swainson’s by ten to one.
Two types of Vulture form the remainder.
Click click, click click, click click, click click.
If you stand beneath this ancient migration,
awed by the mystery of avian confluence,
two million will pass in less than a month.
Volunteers each year record the deviation,
falling numbers map technology’s tumescence,
a yardstick of raptors for our rapture with growth.
Click click, click.
