Entry 3: Migration as an Earth Right
November 2, 2025
Last week I officially put away my hummingbird feeders. I has been weeks since I’ve seen one of my tiny friends- they are on their way South. I think about these chilly mornings and so many of them echo with the sound of migrating geese. They rise early and they fly through the chill of changing seasons traveling thousands of miles. There is something so sacred about this journey. Whether we are aware are not, the sight and sound of migrating birds marks our season transitions. It signals to our body that we are moving into a time that is slower in which our body’s require more rest.
I saw a social media reel recently that shared that “migration is an earth right,” and these words could not resonate more. While I cannot remember which one I found to give credit to, and a simple search shows many that share this same poetic language, I have kept this mantra in my heart and in my mind.
For birds, migration is a bi-annual journey to native, sacred lands. At both their summer home and their winter home, there is ritual and a way of living that is familiar to even those that are making their first journey. They travel these same invisible pathways year after year, following instinct and ancestral knowledge, even as we ravage the land. The impact of human touch is millions of birds that do not make their migratory journey because of cities, lights, pollution, and city expansion. I grieve our legacy on this wild world. Yet, as I type this post, my early morning is now filled with the sound of geese as they fly over.
I think of my sweet hummingbird friends that made my feeders their regular meal spot since the spring. I’ve spent hours in proximity to these tiny feathered beings as they have built nests and raised their young. My family and I planted flowers for them next to their feeder that we knew would draw them. I made sugar water each week to keep their feeders fresh. I sit her remembering with emotional fondness every single time I came home to find one waiting on the power line by my house, every time I would sit in my bed or kitchen table and peer out my window to find them hovering over the feeder, every minute spent watching my children stand in awe at our back door window, and the moments I walked outside and one would come eye to eye with me as if to say hello or maybe to put in a request for the portion of sugar to water. Each interaction has been so holy, so sacred. I wonder if they bid me farewell as I made dinner, folded laundry, or painted with my littles after school. I think of them now and hope they are well. I wish them safety and strength on their journey. After all, migration has always been a journey about safety, about resources, and about family. What if we could each get out of our own heads enough to notice every migratory flock. What if we each paused to stand in awe over their flight, to wave them farewell, and to send them love? What if we took a moment to feel the heaviness of their absence and to genuinely miss them while anticipating their seasonal return? What if they took with them our concern for their safety, and a burden to treat this world better for their sake?
What if all who migrate, all who immigrate, were given this same awe, respect, love, and concern? After all, migration is an earth right, isn’t it?
