It was early and wore a splendid Sun. The sky was blue, radiant. I stopped at the bridge of the dam and to poke me, a surprised Seagull rose flight. I contemplated the landscape: was a perfect day. In this place the River is bodice and passed the hurdle of the dam continued its way to la vega. I listened with attention and I beheld the thousand sounds of nature. The whisper of water between stones, the hum of a Bumblebee, the snapping of a limb that part to the passage of a rabbit small sounds that form the immensity of the silence. Something that has been lost in our society.
I feel lucky and let myself be carried away by the sensation of peace. Unexpectedly, a noise me out of my self-absorption. They look like a pack of dogs barking. I look at the thicket, but I see nothing. However, the algarabia grows and grows at times. I recognize that sound, I look toward heaven and contemplate a vast flock of storks.
Going eastward and draw enormous arrows into the sky. At one point, the flock turns on itself and turn around. It is as if, in soon, all realized that have wrong course and heatedly discuss what is correct. It could be said that that point in the sky is a mysterious crossroads that only birds can see. More and more birds keep coming. The sky is filled with them. The clamor that form all together going around is deafening. They are hundreds, thousands of birds. Some seem to have already been decided and they continue on their path, but others return as if they expect the stragglers. The birds that are continuing are organized again. The strongest setting the pace and cut the air with their bodies and other reserve forces flying in the wake of one who precedes them, until the moment arrives and relieve him. The picture is beautiful. After a while, very slowly, their voices are turning and storks become tiny points in the sky. I can’t help but think about how will be from now on their way; in all the hardships that will go in this long journey of their lives. I hope a few more minutes and the last groups go through. They are small groups of weakest birds. Its flight is different; It is a hard, lonely, sad flight. A flight of survival. You know, friend bicycle? Like that to them, me also I ahead much even to understand a little of all the great mystery of life. Angel steps original author and source of the article.
