4 | DECEMBER 23 • 2021
essay
For the Birds
B
y the light of a rising
moon, we watched
as thousands of birds
appeared across the sky.
Before we saw them, we
heard the cacophony of bird
voices, loud and
insistent — here
we come, make
way for us, let
us through.
And then the
awesome sight
of the soaring,
magnificent
wings joined the sound
through the hazy sky. The
flocks of bird families
arrived, making use of the
winds to find their way, to
rest their weary feet in the
tiny land mass for which
they were searching over
continents and oceans.
That the destination
for these noble flyers
from Siberia and Europe
and Scandinavia on their
way south to Africa is a
waystation at Argamon
Hula in Israel is a well-
documented annual
phenomenon. But to
witness this event in all
its noisy, graceful reality
was breathtaking. And,
as darkness came and the
moonlight became more
prominent, the shadows of
the arriving bird families
and flocks continued to
dazzle the night sky.
I cried first at the sound,
when I realized that the
spectacle we anticipated
was beginning. And my
emotion deepened at the
sight of the birds. I’m not
a “birder,” just an ordinary
fan of the birdsongs we hear
in our day-to-day lives, just
a sucker for our colorful
feathered friends. “Why do
you like birds so much?”
my granddaughter asked me
with not a little sass. “They
are like flying flowers,” I
said, “God’s miraculous
creation in so many colors
and forms.” How can you
not love a goofy pelican, a
delicate flamingo?
Still, my emotion at the
Hula caught me by surprise.
Now I think it was the sight
of so much life asserting
itself in a most wondrous
way. We came north for
the event following a few
weeks of losses, of death in
our small human world. We
lost two dear friends, and
our community suffered
yet another great loss. My
mind was full of questions
about death, of where their
souls dwell, of how we will
cope as we age and our
losses continue to come
closer. If not answers, the
birds gave me overpowering
joy, and the persistence of
their flying mission gave me
hope. And perhaps the sheer
numbers of birds coming
from the heavens gave me
a conscious image of what
lies beyond, of what happens
when our souls join the
ultimate Oneness.
Scientists seem to know a
great deal about how animals
and birds migrate. I don’t
understand much of it, and
I prefer seeing the mystery
unfolding in real time. I
realized that the birds gave
me yet another reason to be
grateful for this country. The
Hula swamps were famously
the source of malaria and
death for the early pioneers
who came with hope of
taming the land and building
it. But the draining of the
swamps, while it solved one
problem, created another.
One generation’s heroes
created a catastrophe for
the ecosystem. Over the
years, the remarkable
process of “re-swamping”
was begun, and the earth
was nourished with seeds
and other necessities for the
flora and fauna. The arrival
of the birds, half a billion of
them, is a testament to that
process. It’s still in process.
But with no concern for
geopolitics or pandemics,
these birds really want to be
here! Like so many aspects
of life in this country,
there is much that needs
fixing and much that is so
inspiringly right.
Judy Mars Kupchan is an olah to
Israel from Chicago. She is a retired
CEO of the Florence Melton School
of Adult Jewish Learning and a
Jewish educator for more than 40
years in the U.S. This essay first
appeared in Times of Israel.
Judy Mars
Kupchan
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PHOTO BY FLASH90
Migrating birds
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