I awake to the sun peeking over the sea, casting a golden glow over the grass around my resting spot. Standing up, I ruffle my feathers and stretch my wings to shake the slight chill that settled in overnight. The mornings here are peaceful, but are getting later and later each day. It’s time to fly north once more.

Before I can start my next migration, I need to fill up. I hunt for insects, looking on the ground and probing the top layers of dirt with my beak. I eat larva and eggs when I find them.

The sounds of humans getting closer cuts my breakfast a little short, and I take flight. They’ve been a much bigger problem this year. Flying over the area, I see that my small patch of untouched Pampas grassland has only gotten smaller, the nearby cattle ranch having expanded slightly. I’ll have to look for a new place next time.

Taking flight with my flock, I can see the grassland stretch over the horizon. Human settlements are few and far between, leaving plenty of space for us.

“I hope you’ve eaten well this morning,” Papa says. “We’ll be flying until we’re well past the plains.”

“Will we fly over the ocean again?” I ask. The migration south had many days over the sea, which wasn’t always the easiest time to eat.

“No, we’ll be staying over land for the most part, but it’s best not to stop too often,” he replied. He gestured towards the small village below. “Predators and humans are more likely to come for us when we land, so we go as far as we can in one go.”

“I understand!”

The sun sits high in the sky above as I land in the burned field. I probe through the charred remains of the wheat. It’s been many years since I have been able to find my favorite Rocky Mountain locust egg cases, and that doesn’t change today.

What has changed, though, is I no longer hear the loud bangs that took out much of my flock before. I, and the other birds that have stopped here, feast in relative peace before we each take off once again.

“Look here, these egg cases are the best to find around here,” Mama tells me, showing me how to find these in the dirt. I poke around, mimicking her, and find my own.

“These are good!” I exclaim. We both look for more. Papa, and the rest of the flock, are nearby, scouring the burned prairie for the locust eggs and other insects. It’s my first migration north, and I’ve been learning about all the good spots to rest and feed.

A loud bang rings out, and most of the flock takes flight. We circle around once before landing once more to return to hunting, when another bang rings out. This happens several times, fewer birds taking flight each time.

The terror seems to only end when a human runs to the flock in apparent anger and frustration. What’s left of my flock takes flight once more to continue on. I fly near Mama. Papa does not follow.

The sun is setting on the open tundra. I look for a place to rest – a shallow dip in the vegetation is more than enough for me. My belly is full of crowberries, and everyone can tell by the purple juice down my front. They are a favorite up here, and I plan to eat plenty. I’ll also hit the shores for snails this season.

The tundra is the only place that hasn’t changed much in my lifetime. The landscape remains much the same, and I haven’t had to find new food.

But, I no longer fly with a flock. Birds of all kinds surround me, but there isn’t another curlew like me. No one answers my call.

“It’s been nearly a year since you hatched, and I’ve taught you all that I can,” Mama said. We had finally finished our migration and were back on the tundra. I already knew about the berries and the snails.

Now, it was my turn to nest.

With a quick “Thank you, Mama,” I search for my own spot in the Barren Grounds. The rest of my flock nests nearby, but far enough to feel I have my own place in the world. I look forward to the coming year, knowing I won’t be truly alone.

I settle into my nest as the sun disappears and the dark of night closes in. This migration has been full of memories of long gone days, and I wonder if I’ll ever see another Eskimo curlew again.

In my dreams, I fly with my flock once more.