Freighter View Farms

There’s something special about the quiet of early mornings, especially here on the edge of Saginaw Bay. The water stretches out before me, still and calm, as the first light of day begins to warm the sky. It’s a familiar view, one I’ve come to appreciate over countless mornings. But every now and then, nature offers something extraordinary—something that stops you in your tracks and reminds you of the incredible rhythms of the natural world.

This morning, the cormorants gathered—hundreds of them, moving as one across the water. It’s a sight I never tire of, their black forms stark against the soft colors of dawn. In the fall, these birds flock together to hunt, creating a spectacle that feels almost choreographed. They dive underwater in unison, vanishing beneath the surface, only to pop up behind the flock a moment later, rejoining the group as it moves steadily forward. It’s a hunt in mass—efficient, methodical, and mesmerizing to watch.

What’s fascinating is how this group behavior draws in other birds. Seagulls circle above, darting down to the water’s surface in hopes of snatching a fish stirred up by the cormorants’ hunt. And in between the flocking seagulls and the swimming cormorants, terns dart gracefully, weaving through the chaos, each one chasing its own meal in the commotion below.

There’s an elegance to it all—this dynamic group behavior that only happens when the conditions are just right. It’s an emergent behavior that’s rarely seen on this scale, but when it happens, it’s a reminder of how interconnected everything in nature truly is. Each bird, each movement, is part of a larger pattern, something bigger than itself. Together, they create a living, breathing system that’s as unpredictable as it is beautiful.

I watch this scene unfold, grateful for the stillness of the morning that lets me witness something so remarkable. It’s moments like these that make time spent on the bay feel so rewarding. Just as in the garden, where I find peace in the quiet work of seed saving or the satisfaction of watching a tomato ripen, being on the water brings its own kind of magic.

Nature has a way of surprising us when we least expect it—whether it’s a perfect harvest from the garden or a flock of birds moving in perfect sync across the water. It’s a reminder to slow down, to pay attention, to be present in the moment. There’s always something to see, something to learn, if we’re just willing to stop and look.