(No, not my picture, though it is some of the same AT-6/SNJ/T-6 antiques that flew over the farm and call the regional airport home. They are magnificent!)
We are still emerging from the cocoon of cloud that accompanied the gray uncertainty of the big sickness all the way from Spring to Fall. The moist air mass prevented the big 70-plane formation that was intended to commemorate the anniversary of the successful conclusion of the Great Hate. It was so pervasive that the event was postponed and finally cancelled after three tries.
The good news here is that a handful of the great gaggle chose our fields over which to do practice maneuverings, and the delightful clear skies made the roar of rotary engines a palpable presence through the day. We ran some errands off the property, but never outside the roar of freedom above us.
The pilots and owners are going to try to put on some sort of show tomorrow- just the ones who expended the time and money to get those magnificent thundering antiques airborne and up to our field at the edge of the National Capital Region.
It was a day for looking up, and sitting out on the back deck looking at the dizzying blue behind the dancing pines. And the sound of the aircraft engines encouraged us to listen for clues that a formation might be bearing down on us. I caught four of them in echelon, elegant and stately, but Grace won the prize. Looking up, she saw two of the heavy birds practicing loops before they vanished behind the trees on their way back to the regional field north of Culpeper.
If you add in the magic of the Milky Way later, distinct in its arc of stars offset by the lingering partial moon…well, I don’t know how much better the viewing gets. It was a sky day.
(Again, not my picture, but just about what the Milky Way chooses to show us out back).
There are other things that happen in the air, of course, and the sounds often tell us what is to come. We had talked about the strange story from Michigan about insurrection and the President’s post-COVID health as the darkness settled in all around and the night sky deepened. In the background, all around, the chickens and cows and dogs voiced their opinions of the proceedings in what I considered generally favorable terms.
The gentle rhythm was punctuated periodically by the sound of gunfire. A lot of folks are brushing up on their shooting skills in preparation for deer season, probably the largest crowd of orange-clad rifle-bearing citizens in the woods for the two week general season that starts less than two weeks after the election. There are other sounds, since the Early Muzzleloaders will be out at the end of the month. For your use in Northern Virginia, and a reminder to have your orange jumpsuit if you plan to be back in the woods over the next two months:
Early Muzzleloader Oct. 31-Nov. 13
Late Muzzleloader Dec. 12-Jan. 2
General Season Nov. 14-28**
There was something else in the air besides the sounds of aircraft and sportspeople. I was enjoying a Marlboro at the table on the back deck, breathing the richness of tobacco and country air when there was something unexpected in the air. It was quite remarkable, this sound. I remember the way the guns sounded when fired by the A-7 Corsair jets when they did air-power demonstrations for VIPs while alongside the carriers. It was a peculiar deep throated ripping sound, run altogether as one discrete long sharp tear.
That is what I heard from the deck. A little higher in pitch than what I remembered, but a product of a process I was familiar with. It only ran one tear, maybe ten seconds in length, but unmistakable. There had been some periodic popping as the shadows grew long, but this was declarative and assertive in a sort of culmination of whatever activity was going on.
Someone has a fully automatic rifle just up the road. They are not illegal, of course, but unlike semi-automatic firearms require a sheaf of paperwork to be submitted to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms with a special tax. Which is why you do not hear them in the air. Our pal Marlow has some thoughts about that. He told me to expect his perception of what is happening in the air around us. I am interested in his thoughts. I was hearing some of the same things from an assortment of friends. Just not quite as dramatic as ripping the sound from down the road.
That was worth some discussion, but it faded slowly with the last dog end of day. I am glad my neighbor is closer to town than I am, you know? We will see how this all works out in a few weeks, I hope.
Copyright 2020 Vic Socotra
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