Farewell longtails, come back soon

Harbinger of warmer days: a white-tailed tropicbird, commonly known
 as a longtail, wheels through the summer sky in Bermuda

All the longtails have gone, and I miss the sound they made as they called out while chasing and frolicking in the blue skies of summer.

Each year their arrival is greatly anticipated. Many eyes turn to the sea and sky in search of the first arrival, that harbinger of spring.

One here, one there, then suddenly their numbers multiply. No longer a solitary flicker of white against the blue, they come in pairs and groups along the coastline to make their home on craggy islets and in holes among the cliffs that seem impossible to access.

On days of brilliant sunshine the ocean reflects against their underside, painting them an ethereal turquoise.

Young birds emerging from nests grew stronger each day, flying farther and with greater ease and gracefulness as they explored and tested themselves. They soared in celebration of summer days that seemed would last for ever.

Eventually the hints of milder autumn days were more noticeable, and the quiet exodus began. Longtails headed out to sea and many did not return. Away they went, heeding the subtle seasonal signal. It was time to head for the islands a thousand miles south, where winter heat can be found.

Soon only a few remained, the youngest of the brood, still mastering their wings and knowing they must leave for that epic first journey to lands they have yet to see.

Now the sky is empty, a blue void that once was alive with their joyous sounds and playful cavorting. But they will return, and with them the promise of spring and another near-endless summer.