Last week I was flying with the family on board over to the North Coast. It was severe clear and smooth, with a hundred miles of visibility. We had climbed to about 8000 feet to clear the coast range mountains, and I was letting out some altitude, still about 25 miles out.

I stole a glance into the passenger cabin, noting that everyone, including my wife, was fast asleep. I brought my gaze back to the front and scanned the area for other aircraft.

I focused my attention on the engine gauges, all looked well. I checked the course, the descent rate, and the altitude. We were at 5500 feet, while the terrain below us was about 2000 feet.

I looked up again, out the front windshield, and saw about 20 targets right in front, closing fast. It was a flock of geese.

There wasn't much I could do. We were doing 170 mph and they were close enough to identify species, so I instinctively hunkered low in my seat.

I had read accounts of birds hitting windscreens and hitting pilots in the head, causing serious injuries and even incapacitating the pilot or the airplane. I quickly wondered what it might do to the propeller or leading edge of the wing if impacted.

Luckily for me the birds made their evasive maneuver just perfectly, and the flock literally opened a door for me to pass through. They all flashed by us in an instant, and once again the sky in front was clear.

I was surprised. The times when I have been worried about bird strikes have been at much lower altitudes. My home airport is adjacent to a wildlife refuge filled with hundreds of thousands of ducks and geese. I expected my first bird strike would be on a rainy approach into home base, not way up in the clear sky out near the coast.

After my heart returned to it's normal pattern, I shot a look back to the passenger cabin. All still sleeping.

I have started a new blog, which is focused on fatherhood. Find it at here.