The night before last, I awoke about 3:30 AM to a waxing gibbous moon shining in the window, and the sound of swans. Tundra swans. This was the first flock I'd heard all fall, although I know they have been migrating. It turns out I didn't know the window was open a crack, so that made me hear them better and possibly even wake up just to hear them. The window is now closed, cold weather is finally on its way.
Rather than lie awake and worry about things, as I often do when I wake up in the early hours of the morning, I felt a sense of peace from hearing the swans. All was well, at least for another night.
It amazes me that swans, and many other migratory birds, fly by night. Navigation must be an instinctual art, one that was not lost on our ancestors who navigated the high seas before radar and GPS.