Where is Our Lake, Dude?
They were the real travelers, the free spirits nature had kindly offered us. They crossed deserts, flew over mountains which few humans dared climb, passed through valleys, over forests sunlight could not penetrate.
They were expert sailors, could find their way without the aid of a compass or electronic equipment.
They knew how to ride the wind. The strong and the experienced positioned themselves at the tough spots so that the weak and the young could have an easy ride.
They fought with adverse winds, they challenged the unforgiving heat of the sun. Flying at an altitude only eagles could, they slowly approached their final destination, all the way from African deserts to Lake Aksehir, Turkey. They began their descent, the part they liked most: the show off. Like a woman aware of her beauty, they, too knew we would watch them with eyes of appreciation; queens of the migratory birds, the flamingos. The young were happy, they made it. And for that reason, it took a while to understand something was wrong, terribly wrong. The adults were silent, only the wind. Panicked, they looked at the adults flying next to them. But they did not find the usual “you’re doing fine” look. Adults were too busy staring down, staring at a place the young ones’ eyes could not see, yet.
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