The beginning of chick season at Patuxent could best be described by the great American philosopher and baseball player Yogi Berra when he said, “It’s like déjà vous all over again!” And it is. One day into chick season and you can’t tell if it’s this year, last year or the year before that. Same places, same faces, same pace and emotional journey….so familiar, in fact that it threatens to morph into the unfamiliar, like some timeless continuum in an episode of “Twilight Zone.” Could it be that Patuxent is a suburb of Shangri-La, the legendary city in “Lost Horizon” where time stands still, no one ages and your girlfriend can go to the Prom wearing the same dress she’s worn for the last two hundred years?
But once the chick season starting gun goes off, time for reflection comes to a screeching halt and things start to happen so fast that before long you feel like you’re in one of those old movies running just off stride, or two ahead of a steam roller. And you’re not alone because you’re running in a crowd made up of the “Usual Suspects,” migration veterans all, who’s names are familiar to readers of the OM Field Journal. Jane and Ali go off to check nests for eggs while Brian and Barb place newly hatched chicks in the brooder or ICU’s while Sharon and Geoff teach chicks to eat and drink while Charlie and Robert are busy walking or swimming chicks. All this while Glenn and Carlyn give the chicks their daily health exams catching any problems before they develop while Jonathan maintains the order of things. Like they say – It takes a village – even if the village must operate at warp speed.
The pace of activity quickly accelerates until it reaches the visual status of a blur. Yet embedded within it lies a calm, practiced and seamless choreography developed over the years and orchestrated by a deep sense of devotion seasoned with a large dose of urgency. All this can be attributed to the simple biological fact that the chicks come from the factory with a serious lack of patience as standard equipment. They need what they need and want what they want and they need and want it NOW! Why? Because millions of years of evolution have dictated that, in nature, they must be ready to migrate south with their parents in the fall or be left behind to perish and so there isn’t a minute to lose. Meanwhile, it’s like time lapse photography without the lapses or like “Chop Sticks” played on a piano at three in the morning by a left over hippie on methadrine while Mother Nature hovers nearby screaming at the top of her lungs, “Get’ er done!”
But even the walker on a treadmill set on hi-speed can from time to time mentally pause to watch the room go by and enjoy the wonder of it all while taking care not to be spit out the back end, for chick season is as much an adventure as it is a process, as deliciously rewarding as it is magical, an experience never to be forgotten while never to be fully understood. We wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll just hang on for dear life and try to enjoy the ride until chick season ends, which for Geoff and I will come on the day the chicks take that ride to the airport for the flight to Wisconsin and the beginning of their next beginning. Until then it’s “Back to the Future.”