My 2018 AirVenture experience provided mul­tiple opportunities for bird-watching, both biologi­cal avians and the mechanical birds that enable us humans to emulate our feathered friends. Before and after EAA’s annual extravaganza, my Wisconsin-based beau and I spent sunsets on his deck. From that vantage point, we watched a steady progression: As feathered birds of all kinds flocked to the feeders he lavishly tends, metal birds of many kinds were flocking overhead as they made their way to and from Oshkosh. 

Leonardo to Lindbergh 

The human bird shall take his first flight, filling the world with amazement, all writings with his fame, and bringing eternal glory to the nest whence he sprang. – Leonardo da Vinci 

Especially after the overwhelming experience that AirVenture offers, those evenings provided a pleasant opportunity to reflect on the wonder and the miracle of flight. Human beings have always watched birds with envy, longing and, as Leonardo da Vinci predicted, enough determination eventually to succeed. Also accurate was Leonardo’s forecast of the amazement, fame, and eternal glory that early human birds such as the Wright brothers and Charles Lindbergh would accrue. 

The construction of an airplane is simple com­pared with the evolutionary achievement of a bird. If I had to choose, I would rather have birds than airplanes. – Charles Lindbergh 

Flying is commonplace today, but it is not pos­sible to visit AirVenture without being awed by the mechanical birds-of-all-feathers diversity that mir­rors the biological variety of the avian world. As we watched all the fluttering at the feeders, though, I had to agree that Lindbergh had a point. Notwith­standing the complexity, diversity, and sophisti­cation of the mechanical fleet, the “evolutionary achievement of a bird” is still a wondrous and even mysterious thing. I suspect Lindbergh was thinking of the magnificent design and construction of the “aircraft” part. But we human flyers also envy a bird’s perfect piloting that results from being — quite liter­ally — one with their craft. 

Back to Bach 

That observation led me back to Bach. Regular readers know that Richard Bach’s Gift of Wings is, along with Mark Vanhoenacker’s Skyfaring, a guide­post in my personal firmament of aviation literature. A favorite Bach essay relevant to the theme of this issue of FAA Safety Briefing is “School for Perfec­tion.” It tells the story of how the narrator, a flight instructor, is rejuvenated and inspired by meeting the proprietor of a hidden and highly unusual flight school. Drake has a curriculum that starts with a lengthy study of the wind, the sky, and the dynamics of unpowered flight. The narrator scoffs: “At that rate, it’s going to take him a lifetime to learn to fly.” 

“Of course it will,” is Drake’s matter-of-fact response. He patiently explains that a true pilot must develop an understanding of, and respect for, the basics of flight itself before actually taking wing. Drake then takes the narrator to watch as a teenage student prepares to aviate with “a great frail set of snow-linen wings, thirty feet from tip to tip,” resting on his shoulders. Drake explains that 

… the most practical way to bring a pilot to per­fection is to reach him when he is caught up with the idea of pure flight, before he decides that a pilot is a systems operator. (…) 

Making the Feathers Fly 

A bit later in the visit, Drake reminds the narra­tor that “It’s up to us to keep flight alive in a world of airplane-drivers (…) to take time to give a pilot skill and understanding.” As we close this survey of flying birds of a different feather, may we all recommit ourselves to both the spirit and the discipline of truly learning to fly like the birds.  (FAA Safety Briefing– NovDec 2018)