On record I calculate every variance of wind. I don't pay much mind to big winds like the gulf stream or prevailing westerlies. These I can leave on reasonable good faith to the science of meteorologists. I have devoted myself instead to a more nuanced study, to local wind, to gusts and puffs and breezes. I note the small wind's speed, its direction, the temperature of its air. I track its patterns, and diagram them on a globe in red colored pencil. Later, I transcribe them to my private cache of maps. In doing this, I discovered that a certain point by a certain lake not far from my home is the crux of a rare intersection between two bodies of wind, one curving, and one angular. They meet and switch at this place in a beautiful reverse flow.

Though I would not ordinarily attribute to this any, much less mystical significance, I can only report that curiosity called me to visit this locale, as it was a convenient short walk, and that this visit yielded two surprising factors. The first was an unusual absence of people in an area generally overrun with athletic enthusiasts. The second was an unusual presence, one of a large white bird.

Perhaps the bird was a stork. I confess I am not adequately versed in bird identificatory science. Certainly, it was of notable size, and white, and was standing still on a rock by the water. Perhaps I ought not to say it was standing still, per se. True, it was moving. It had tremendous wings, and these it flapped over and over again, beating the air. The bird was facing southeast with the lake to its left, and leaning slightly toward the water below it. It seemed unaware of my presence. It had long legs, and I imagine it must have had terrific talons to grip the bare stone and resist the force of its magnificent wings, for it stood flapping in this way without taking flight for fifty-six minutes while I watched. It may have stood longer, but I returned home.

All this occurred some weeks ago. Still, the image has not left me. I am somewhat perturbed. I lay no claim to familiarity with the usual behavioral modes of birds but this flapping strikes me as unnormal. Of course it is not possible, but the creature looked to be performing some ritual, divining some something, poised as it was mid-wind, between air and land and sea. This was no idle flapping, I insist. It was purposeful and self-aware, yet also ridiculous, like ungraceful tai chi.

Virtue

The question arises, was the bird attracted to this spot through an instinctual awareness of its special wind qualities, intuitively selecting to enact its flapping at this site? Or somehow was this flapping bird the wind pattern's source, the cause of a rare two-wind reverse flow?