There was still a bit of daylight and hardly any wind at all when I got home from work tonight, so I decided to burn the trash.
I no sooner get the fire lit, when a brisk breeze begins to blow to the east. The truck was slightly past the fire area, more toward the road. We were in the 50's for temperatures, just totally LOVELY weather...
A neighbor stops by to recommend that I move the truck back about 30' to the west, as these old vehicles have the gas tanks on the side toward the fire, and the fuel tanks can get old and be pitted. I do, at once, and thank him very much for the advice.
As I walked back, the fire was nearly burned out. (Nothing caught on fire except the trash... for once!)
I hiked back up the hill after returning the matches and lighter to the old house.
The sun was peacefully setting. A cacophony of honking erupted. "Going North already?" I thought, scanning the twilight sky for the honkers causing the ruckus. A flock darkened the sky. Not north. Not south. EAST.
Before their sound faded, I became aware of a smaller group of equally noisy birds. "Hey, you on the left wing, are you there?" "Yep, bro, I'm still with you." "You got any idea of where we are?" "Hey, Sis, any of this terrain look familiar to you?" "Well, you're the navigator; you're supposed to know where we're going. We're just along for the ride." "Hey, Jimmy, where are those other clowns going? Isn't it still winter out?" "Winter. Right. Righty tighty... nope. wrong saying. We go south in the winter... Okay, guys, this way's south, come on, everyone," and that gaggle of twenty fled south.
But the first group was still just audible, and I could clearly hear the batch heading south (wish the camera worked -- they were against a gorgeous sunset...) when a third group squawked into view. Heading WEST.
The three groups were all visible at one time just by turning your head, all within hearing at the same time, all flying at differing altitudes.
George would have described the scene as cathedral-like cacaphony... or some such.