So we're going to start out talking about giant birds, the shadows of both the wilderness.
One of the reasons I love spending time outdoors is because the wilderness has a way of reminding us how small we really are.
It doesn't matter whether you're standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon or hiking through the White Mountains of Arizona or sitting beside a lonely campground in the Appalachians.
There comes a moment when you finally stop thinking about work and bills and traffic.
When you begin paying attention to the world around you again.
You notice the smell of rain before it arrives.
You hear the chatter of squirrels long before you see them.
You learn to recognize the shark whistle of a hawk and the deep croak of a Reagan.
Eventually, the woods stop feeling like scenery.
They begin feeling alive, and once that happens, you also realize something else.
You're being watched.
Usually it's nothing mysterious.
A mule deer standing perfectly still behind the stand of aspens.
A curious fox watching from the edge of a meadow.
An owl you'd walk past three times without ever noticing.
Nature's always watching, folks.
But every now and then...
Someone looks up or you look up or I look up and sees something they can't explain.
Not a bird that's merely large, something so enormous that their first reaction is an excitement.
It's disbelief.
Stories of giant birds have been told for thousands of years.
Nearly every culture has them.
Native peoples throughout North America told stories of immense birds that ruled the skies.
Creatures so powerful that storms seemed to follow in their wake.
Whether understood as spiritual beings, guardians of the mountains, or forces of nature, those traditions remind us that the sky has always held mystery.
So we're going to start out talking about giant birds, the shadows of both the wilderness.
One of the reasons I love spending time outdoors is because the wilderness has a way of reminding us how small we really are.
It doesn't matter whether you're standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon or hiking through the White Mountains of Arizona or sitting beside a lonely campground in the Appalachians.
There comes a moment when you finally stop thinking about work and bills and traffic.
When you begin paying attention to the world around you again.
You notice the smell of rain before it arrives.
You hear the chatter of squirrels long before you see them.
You learn to recognize the shark whistle of a hawk and the deep croak of a Reagan.
Eventually, the woods stop feeling like scenery.
They begin feeling alive, and once that happens, you also realize something else.
You're being watched.
Usually it's nothing mysterious.
A mule deer standing perfectly still behind the stand of aspens.
A curious fox watching from the edge of a meadow.
An owl you'd walk past three times without ever noticing.
Nature's always watching, folks.
But every now and then...
Someone looks up or you look up or I look up and sees something they can't explain.
Not a bird that's merely large, something so enormous that their first reaction is an excitement.
It's disbelief.
Stories of giant birds have been told for thousands of years.
Nearly every culture has them.
Native peoples throughout North America told stories of immense birds that ruled the skies.
Creatures so powerful that storms seemed to follow in their wake.
Whether understood as spiritual beings, guardians of the mountains, or forces of nature, those traditions remind us that the sky has always held mystery.
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