BIRD MIGRATION

As if they greeted us arrival from above to the extreme region to the farthest mother, comes through the high air as by grace, cutting the sky blue, the largest “people” emigrated. They come, they come, the pelicans...

“What do you see, mother, that I don’t see?” and you look enraptured*?

—So you can see them, stand up. What cute new arrivals!

They are the people of the last sea, pelicans in flocks

—Lie to them, mom, ha ha, I already see the flock.

—Because it is pure snow and ice extreme Patagonia*, the birds of the sea are coming on that embarrassed tape*. so many they would cover the paddock if they lowered *.

—They scream, mom, they all scream. It will be that they fear and call.—No, my loquillo, they go down shouting for his arrival. But they don’t give us the taste to hear the commotion well. be content to look at them the donous* and white line.

“But where are they going?”

Are they lost and do not go down?

What are they going to lose? my crazy boy!

We, yeah, we get lost but those never fail. They will go down when they see your usual beach.

The peonada* doesn’t even look how beautiful her past is. The people, little one, know few or no birds; only yantares* and things and contrada gossip*.

They go down, they go down, they go down vertically to usual pastures. Listen to them instead of speaking look and don’t yell, my child... don’t miss his past.

Now you hear a little more; is that they see its beaches...

—Tell more, tell, Mama.

—Calendar fasts, signals and calls, three or five thousand they know the arrival date and they give each other voice of departure as summoned caste and go up as calls. They lebird the ice, the sand small, the nest and the beaches, the elusive sun and they come to the second homeland.

You can see more, they already twisted the course, like whistles. they are warned almost, almost are calls. The stain is opening up. They already recognize the beaches. And now it’s going down real straight and with cries of arrival. Welcome to the dunes so sweet and accustomed. They go down, they go down, they go down again...