Birds migrate.

The word “migrate” derives from the Latin “migrare,” which means to move from place to place. That’s what birds do. They “pass periodically from one region or climate to another.” That’s the definition of “migrate.”

Snow geese migrate.

The big white birds summer way up there, north of the timberline in Alaska and Canada. When they feel the cold winds starting to blow off the North Pole, they pack up the flock and head south.

Migrating down the Central Flyway and crossing the Great Plains, the “V’s” of birds take a break and grab a bite to eat from the grain left behind in the fields. Lifting to the sky again, those “V’s” float south to the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. Arriving, they sette on a sunny beach and order one of those fancy drinks with the little umbrellas. The drinks, of course, are nonalcoholic. Geese are always driving. There are no “designated” flyers. Everyone drives . . . but there is a secret.

I will tell you a great avian secret. The birds don’t do all the flying. It’s too far to fly, even with their big wings and those fast-food grain stops across the prairies of Canada and the U.S. They catch a ride. You know, like they have at the big airports. You’ve stepped onto those moving walkways and been whisked away without effort to your gate.

In the sky, way up there, where you see those “V’s” of geese, those birds are resting on invisible moving walkways, just like in the airports. Those are the skyways. The birds know this, because it is a bird secret.

When a group of struggling geese finds a skyway, they settle on it in a “V” shape.

One of the reasons for the “V” shape is that it allows every bird an unobstructed view of where they’re going. Yes, they do move their wings, but just a bit to look like they’re flying, so people think “It’s just a bunch of birds.” The “V” shape is bird talk saying, “Honk, honk, we found it, this is the skyway to the south, hop on, there’s room, the umbrella drinks are waiting, honk, honk.” Bird language is much more efficient than human language. “V” says all that in bird talk. The “V” also points the direction for the others to follow: “Go south, young bird. Go south!”. You’ve noticed that the “V’s” always point to the south, except, of course, when the flock is entering or exiting the lanes.

Way down south, where the warm winds blow and the fancy drinks are waiting, that’s where all those snow geese are heading.

It’s not just geese.

I have a brother and his wife and a sister-in-law who migrate. It’s the strangest of things. About this time of year, when the leaves turn colors and float to the ground, those relatives start to list somewhat to the southward. There must be some small genetic gyroscopes that they have that we don’t, because they start to walk sort of sideways, leaning in a southerly direction.

There are other people signs.

Colleen, my sister-in-law, is an artist, and she finds herself painting little palm trees everywhere, on the kitchen cabinets, the bathroom floor, even with the squeeze mustard on the edges of the plate around the sandwich she’s eating. In mid-bite, she’ll jump up, grab a bag, run to the car and take off.

My brother, Kevin, and his wife, Sharon, are bikers. One day they just start riding south, and they can’t stop. Finally, they pause for a drink from their water bottles, flip a coin and that one goes back, gets the SUV and hurries back to pick up the other. They quickly mount their bikes on the tailgate bike-rack and take off, stopping for food and clothes along the way.

Food is important because my migratory relatives don’t form “V’s,” they don’t like leftover grain, and it is a long way without the use of an invisible moving walkway. Kevin and Sharon favor vegetarian and barbecue pizzas with sides of steamed broccoli. Colleen is a fan of Cincinnati chili, which is near her daughter Aubry’s house on the way south.

Sustained by regional cuisines and an occasional relative’s rest stop, our wandering relations push relentlessly south.

I just got the email that Colleen has made it!

Kevin and Sharon must still be flying south.

People do migrate. I have the relatives to prove it.

Are you listing slightly to the south of center. Do you feel a tugging gyroscopic urge you can’t define?

If so, consider migrating this winter season. The reports I have are that it is great fun.

To sustain yourself, stop for pizzas and sides of broccoli. Consider packing the spaghetti and a few cans of chili for the toppings.

Find that “V” in the sky, follow it and watch for those little umbrella drinks near the beach.

You may have arrived. Settle back and enjoy the sun.

It’s not just for geese, you know,

Grandpa Jim