The Day the Sky Exploded
Resting in the grace of the world
Stillness of wind -
only the rustling
of starling voices,
filling the silence
with farewell.
Then as one breath,
movement comes.
A river of wings
lifts free from the earth,
on its way toward the light. - Emmy Van Vliet
I was on my way home from a job that epitomized what I call “soul-killing.” Filthy and crowded cubicles, no training, constantly changing expectations, and co-workers who took their frustrations out on others. There was also a guy who chewed tobacco and spit the resulting dirt brown liquid into the metal trashcan beside his desk (gross).
I mention all this so you can appreciate my state of mind as I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store to pick up supplies for dinner. The store was surrounded on three sides by farmland - mostly fields of dry, brown leaves and grass. I’d just gotten out of my car and was locking up when the sky above the field exploded.
The sound was like nothing I’d ever heard before - a sudden, enormous “whoosh” as thousands of small black birds took flight. This was followed by a low collective chatter (what I later learned was called a murmuration) as the birds twisted and turned in flawless synchronicity, creating elaborate shapes that dissolved and then reformed into spirals and waves. My immediate response was shock. I simply couldn’t believe what I was seeing. In fact it took me a few moments to understand that birds were the choreographers. I gasped and inhaled deeply - the deepest, most satisfying breath I’d taken in months.
I’ve never forgotten the incredible energy those thousands of small birds (starlings) generated as they dipped and dove, swooped and soared in the cloudless sky as the sun was setting. I’ve often wondered if the celebratory energy they generate whenever a murmuration is convened (because they happen all over the world) are the starlings’ contribution to world peace or at the very least their way of helping cleanse the Earth’s energy field.
Regardless of the reason, the starlings taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. When life as a human being gets too rough, I drop my mental machinations in the trash and head outside. There, as Wendell Berry put it so perfectly, “I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
An Addendum
Not long after Russia invaded Ukraine, I came up with a way to help the more than 2.2 million Ukrainian children who’d been displaced. My work on the CritterKin books had taught me the importance of giving kids tools for dealing with strong emotions. The CritterKin books use the adventures of a goofy pack of dogs to explore ways to cope with uncomfortable situations and feelings. The project I envisioned to help Ukrainian kids was to tell the story of magical birds that use murmurations to generate and spread peace.
I’m including the prologue to the book I wrote, along with a link to the Substack where you can read about, watch videos of, and listen to the original song from the first program I ran. Just click the image below.
Prologue - Music Gets Its Wings
Alice fell down a rabbit hole
and Harry found a stone
Lucy entered Narnia,
and Marcy met a mole.
But no one seemed to notice
that nature was the key -
the door to every wonderland
that set the stories free. - Jena
This story begins with a song. A strange and wonderful song that was almost lost at the edge of a dream when Gertie’s cat, Bosco, decided it was time for breakfast and began gently patting her cheek with his paw. Pat, pat, pat went Bosco’s soft brown paw on Gertie’s cheek. But Gertie was enjoying her dream too much to wake up.
In the dream, Gertie and her friend Anna were sitting on a park bench in Odessa’s Victory Park chatting. All around and above them colorful autumn leaves were falling from the trees and carpeting the park’s pathways with orange, yellow and red. Up ahead, Gertie’s granddaughter, Haley, was sitting beside the pond visiting with a family of mandarin ducks.
Suddenly, Haley jumped to her feet, pointed at the sky, and called, “Look, Grandma!”
Looking up, Gertie saw thousands of small black birds with iridescent wings forming a giant cloud in the sky. The cloud dipped, dove, twisted, and turned - expanding and contracting into a giant, swirling column. “Those are starlings,” said Anna. “When they gather to fly, it’s called a murmuration.”
Set against the cool autumn sky, the cloud of starlings dipped and turned, rose and fell, rippling across the sky like a sheet blowing in the wind. “What’s that noise they’re making?” Gertie asked. “It sounds like singing.”
The sound, which was so low and deep at first that Gertie thought it might be the wind rose gradually and grew louder and louder, rising and falling like the birds into sad, sweet harmonies.
“It’s the birds, Grandma,” Haley said. “They’re singing for Ukraine.”
That’s when Bosco’s soft, furry paw patted Gertie’s face again, pulling her away from the dream. Pat, pat, pat went Bosco’s paw. “Just a minute Bosco,” Gertie mumbled, pushing the cat away and trying to stay inside the dream. But it was no use. Thinking she was playing a game, Bosco jumped onto Gertie’s chest, swished his tail under her nose, and patted her chin. Pat, pat, pat went Bosco’s paw.
“Meow!” he added, just to be sure she was awake.
“Oh, all right!” Gertie said, opening her eyes and seeing Bosco’s dark brown face inches from her nose. “Get off my chest you big goof. You weigh a ton.”
Bosco hopped to the floor, twitched his tail, and headed for the door, looking back as if to say, “Are you coming?”
Copyright 2026 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.
