It was a question I’d heard before. In August I was presenting a bird program when a lady asked, “Is it true that humming birds migrate south by hitching a ride on the backs of Canada geese?” This is a surprisingly common notion. It’s understandably hard to believe something as miniature as a humming bird could possibly make the arduous journey south in fall, unaided. How could any critters cross enormous quadrants of the planet twice each year? And yet many do. Numerous species of insects, bats, fish, whales, squid, caribou, bison, … and birds… become tourists each year. Evidence now indicates that even many dinosaurs migrated.

Migrations can be truly amazing events. Not only do humming birds fly immense distances (upwards of 2,000 miles) under their own power, incredibly some will fly 500 miles over the Gulf of Mexico non stop (in about 20 hours). Hummingbirds migrate at tree top (or wave top) elevation. Canada geese, however, have been known to fly nearly two miles high, and generally in routes seldom used by hummers. Canada geese migrate in huge flocks. Hummingbirds tend to migrate alone… during the day.

Autumn migration is a challenging time for bird watchers, as entire flocks head south. I always have trouble noticing departures. Normally birds depart pretty much unnoticed; after all, most small birds tend toward night flights. One day they’re around, next day… gone. Gradually it will dawn on you, that you haven’t seen an oriole or a chipping sparrow for quite a while.

In spring it’s comparatively easy to notice arrivals. The year’s first red-wing blackbirds, for example. Their familiar “oak-a-ree” suddenly reverberates throughout the countryside. They even flash brilliant scarlet epaulets along highways as if to draw your attention. But in fall, there’s precious little singing. Foliage further conceals silent birds. Plus, many species even change or dull down their colors, just to add to the confusion.

While on a recent hike, I happened to walk up to a black throated blue warbler. He sat there (just a few feet away) and looked at me. By the time I got my camera out, he took off. You often see several species of warblers migrating together, but they can be a challenge to identify. One day several weeks ago, there were tree swallows all over the place. And the next morning, not one to be seen. Around that time there was a huge seemingly unending flock of nighthawks wending their way south. Chimney swifts are long gone… but I don’t know when they left. These critters won’t be seen until next spring.

One year we were canoeing down the Current River in Missouri in late fall. We happened to paddle through a flying and fluid flock of southbound robins. The meandering river took us into the flock and out… and back in… and back out. These birds were chattering and singing… seemingly having a migratory party.

Migration in fall actually starts in July and can last until winter’s onset. There’s plenty of opportunity to tune into this annual phenomenon. To many species the American Midwest is the “sunny south,” since this is where they spend winters. Tree sparrows, juncos, rough-legged hawks, winter wrens, snow buntings, lapland longspurs… all occupy the Illinois winter landscape.

To pay attention to migration is to get a glimpse of the connectedness of the world. Naturalist, John Muir said that when we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else. This is very evident in migratory behavior. “Our” purple martins winter in South America. And “our” winter juncos and tree sparrows actually nest in the northern boreal forests of Canada.

The magic of autumn migration touches something within us. We come from a long line of migrants. Recent evidence indicates that early human ancestors migrated all over Africa, Europe, and Asia, well before humans first stepped into North America. They left Africa and returned (repeatedly). They crisscrossed huge segments of the planet, back and forth, making it very difficult to accurately interpret our own ancestry. We are all connected… way more than was previously thought… to each other and to this amazing planet. We have much in common with these itinerant birds.

For many decades, birders throughout the country have participated in the Audubon Christmas bird count. By then the fall migration has finally ended and it’s a great time to assess who’s around and who’s gone. This past Christmas I aimed my scope at some birds on Lake Michigan. I’ve watched for winter birds along the Lake in Door County, Wisconsin, over the past 30 years. Typically there are mergansers, scoters, goldeneye, buffleheads, and old squaw. This was the first time I’d noticed horned grebes. Other birders reported these same grebes all the way from Milwaukee, up to the northern tip of Door County. Christmas bird count records show that average winter ranges have been shifting steadily northward.

Because the Earth is so huge, many people refuse to believe the greenhouse gasses we emit from burning of coal, oil, and natural gas could possibly accumulate sufficiently to impact this immense atmosphere. Sometimes it takes little migratory birds to reveal how truly small our planet is, and how huge our impact can be. Patterns of migration are changing in response to global warming.

President Obama said, “Climate change is not a hoax. More droughts and floods and wildfires are not a joke. They are a threat to our children’s future.” With the election right around the corner, major environmental groups from Sierra Club to the League of Conservation Voters endorse Barack Obama’s re-election. This is what some of us refer to as a “no-brainer.”

“This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.” Chief Seattle