Wading my way through the thick, white powder I trudged to the rim of the snow to the large rocks before taking a rest. And there they were. On this chilled Sunday afternoon, they glided on the surface of the lake, untouched by the traffic noise a ways behind me. At this moment, sitting on a cold rock, nose red from the bitter winter air, and feet cold as ice, I felt at ease. I waited and listened. After watching the birds out on the lake, I realized that they only did two things, dive deep into Lake Michigan in hopes of finding food or briskly swim to keep together with their clan. Hundreds and hundreds of birds, swimming and fishing, only produced a light sound of them splashing their feathers, trying to dry off. It was almost a faint hum against the sound of the waves drifting into the rocky shoreline. How is it, at this very time, these birds could live together like humans would and yet, have a sense of genuine, uncorrupt peace?