What is it that captivates us about our little feathered friends? What about these avian adventurers do we find fascinating? What is it about their flights of fancy that touches something deep within us?
Simply that indeed—flight.
These creatures possess the ability that we earthbound bodies can't copy. We can run like any beast on two or four feet. We can swim and slice through water like any aquatic animal. But to fly—to truly take to the sky, sans augmentation or transportation—we can never really experience that liberty.
We all wish for the freedom of the winds. To float where our hearts and dreams guide us. To take in the vastness of the whole horizon or laser-focus, eagle-eyed on the micro amidst the macro. To carry with us only the weight we can bear and let go of what might keep us rooted. To twist, to soar, to flip, to dance among the clouds.
So we envy and admire that which we may not achieve. We spy and seek them out. We hunt and hope to catch even a glimpse of the rarest of birds. We take pride in our collections and notations of species and specifications. We train our ears to perceive the slightest tweet or the smallest chirp. We yearn for the honks and brays, the trills and airs, the screech and the hoot. All this we do to honor and protect these precious reminders of the freedom and heights we aspire to, if even just unconsciously.
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