Small beetle-like bugs would cluster on the trunk of a magnolia tree in the yard. The beetles formed a circle—or a pie really because it was a circle filled with dots—maybe 30-40 bugs. What fascinated me was that when I gently touched a stick to the center of the group, all of the bugs would spread outward, then relocate to form another circle maybe four inches away. Touch, scatter, reconstitute. The whole process took maybe six seconds.

It was like watching a single animal or entity, the opening and closing of a hand, except the parts were not visibly connected. Each beetle looked like an individual, but behaved as though attached to the others.

This morning, a flock of about 40 cedar waxwings roosted high in the pecan tree, a choir along the first branches to catch sun. When something startles waxwings, they take off in all directions, soar up, regather in midair flight, then land in place with little thought, discussion, or training, as though they are a part of one entity.

Schools of fish behave similarly.

Watching certain soccer games, you may see the same thing. There are the rehearsed plays. But then you see something else kick in, where the players without time to think, sometimes without the ability to physically see each other, coordinate as one. It's beautiful to watch.

It’s what can grow among members of certain bands on a good night, when the music becomes transcendent, or between dance or ice-skating partners. A connection--maybe even union.

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BTW, the blurry photo above is from March of 2005: Cedar Waxwings waiting to dine on pyracantha berries, weighting the branches of not-so-tall central Texas oaks.