September 16, 2026

Today I explored a new to me section of the preserve. This area requires hiking or biking in from the Greenway or traversing the entire main daisy chain loop. I opted for a cruise and hike. This section wound along a hillside with a small tributary to the Neuse River down below. The canopy had fewer pine trees that seem to be a staple of the main trunk of Williamson. Instead of squishing and crunching gravel and pine needles, it was brown, yellow, and a few red leaves.

This part of the forest was noticeably different. It either had, by comparison, more deciduous trees, or much had changed since Monday. Although I’d never been to this section, the familiar friends overhead sounded off. There was the pine warbler, tufted titmouse, chickadee, Downey, and brown-headed nuthatches, each with their distinct but familiar acapella. A few I didn’t recognize popped up, including the yellow-throated vireo and Veery, who likely stopped for a respite.

Interesting that we share a common hobby, visiting the forest Williamson for rest, or maybe a reset. Like the migrating birds, Williamson was the backdrop today for recovery, specifically a recovery hike, a keep yourself loose and warm type of hike. Similarly, the birds flying overnight seek refuge during the day. Their marathon is more of a yearly endurance race southward over several days, based on seasonal intricacies we as humans are just beginning to unravel. From seeing UV light to an acute awareness of time and length of day, all influence when birds and a bird will take flight and begin their yearly version of the  Mammoth March. And mine was haphazardly chosen based on lack of elevation and driving proximity to my house. Clearly, proximity is the least of a bird’s decision-making factors.

Clearly, convenience is at the bottom of their list too, and isn’t convenience at the top of ours as a species? Our migration has been towards cities and technology and things that make our life easier, but to what end? It wasn’t to spend more time outdoors with all our extra time.

Maybe we should embrace and lean into the inconvenient things. Maybe my Mammoth March and subsequent training is just that, an exercise in the inconvenient and strenuous. Maybe it’s my migration, a migration home.