I’ve been privileged to witness some extraordinary moments in nature—scenes that leave an indelible mark on the soul.
Recently, a talented videographer and good friend invited me to Columbia, Missouri, to help document a truly unique event: the spectacle of a red-winged blackbird roost.
As the sun sank low on the horizon, over two million blackbirds descended on a grassy field in a breathtaking display. Just before dusk, they began to arrive, perching in bare trees until the branches seemed to sprout black, fluttering leaves. More poured in, forming vast, shifting clouds that darkened the sky.
By sunset, the enormous flock moved into the reed grasses below, settling in for the night. The sound was overwhelming—a deafening symphony of shrieks and trills that reverberated through the air. It was impossible not to feel awestruck.
I’ve recorded mass bat exoduses from Texas caves, where they spiral into the night skies, but this was different. The blackbirds’ voices carried an emotional weight, raw and powerful.
Yet, amid the wonder, I felt a growing unease. In the distance, the sharp, jarring cracks of gunfire broke through the natural symphony. It sounded as though hunters were taking aim at the birds. Though I couldn’t be certain, the timing felt deliberate—shots rang out only as the birds arrived, each night at the same time.
The scene reminded me of the passenger pigeon, a species that once darkened the skies in unimaginable numbers but was driven to extinction through human greed and carelessness. What compels some people to destroy the beauty that nature gifts us so freely?
I struggled to fully enjoy the experience, haunted by the thought of birds falling from the sky. This kind of senseless destruction threatens the fragile wonders we have left.
I often hesitate to share the locations of such spectacles, fearing they could be exploited or harmed by the wrong hands. As a species, we’ve already lost so much of the natural world during my lifetime. The wonders of nature are finite; we have only one chance to protect what remains.
And so, I leave you with the sounds of these majestic birds—a soundscape that I hope will endure as a living testament to their existence, not a memory of what once was.
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