Waiting for the Black Kite: A Birdwatcher’s Reflection

Black Kite photographed by Adam Cruickshank

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When last were you looking forward to a friend returning?

When we spend a lot of time with someone, we can sometimes forget just how valuable they are. Their presence becomes familiar. Normal. Everyday. But when they go away for a while, something shifts. We feel the space they leave behind. We begin to notice how much they actually meant to us. And when they return, it’s as if we see them with fresh eyes. There’s a renewed joy in simply being near them again.

Well, I am waiting for a friend to return.

Towards the end of July and into August, I start to scan the skies. I check sightings. I read messages. The first reports begin to filter through. A familiar visitor has been seen here and there. Slowly but surely, they are making their way back. A friend returning from the north.

It’s that time of year when the Black Kites begin to return. Many of us still refer to them as Yellow-billed Kites, but they have been lumped with Black Kites. Whatever name you use, they are a bird that means something special to many of us.

In summer, it feels like every second raptor in the sky is a kite. They glide effortlessly overhead, perched on poles and trees, scanning the landscape below. They become part of the background. So common that we stop paying attention. Until one day, they’re no longer there. Their absence is slow but noticeable. The skies grow quieter. We start to miss them.

But now, they are returning. And with them comes a sign of change.

Their arrival marks the shift in seasons. It tells us that winter is drawing to a close and that spring is around the corner. Soon the days will get longer. The air will start to warm. New life will stir.

The return of a friend.

Sometimes life feels like winter. We all go through cold seasons. Dark patches where it feels like everything around us is still and silent. Nothing seems to move. Nothing feels alive. But seasons never stay the same forever. Just as the kites return each year, bringing with them the promise of change, so too do our lives move forward.

There are times when all we can do is look up. Watch the skies. Wait.

And then one morning, a silhouette appears overhead. Wings outstretched, gliding with ease. A familiar shape. An old friend. And just like that, hope stirs again.

Let that be your reminder today. Spring always follows winter. A new season always comes. Look to the skies. Let your heart rest in the promise of return.

Your friend is on the way.