Each year, around the beginning of September, an amazing phenomenon happens across the small towns of northern Pennsylvania. Sometimes, if you get up very early, you can catch a glimpse of the wonderful migration of young humans.

Incredibly synchronized, they all somehow know when to start this march each fall. Barely awake, these little ones haul themselves out of their bedding areas and out onto the paths that connect their homes. They gather, in small bands, at each intersection of the pathways, waiting for exactly the right moment to proceed.

Restless, they clutch provisions in bags and lunchboxes as the moments tick by. Sometimes the pressure becomes too great and skirmishes erupt. Bobby tells Suzie she looks like a frog. Suzie sticks her tongue out, a show of defiance and aggression to her challenger. The older ones in the band drift away from these troublemakers and insert peculiar white objects into their ears. This action has puzzled observers for quite some time. See, humans are social creatures, but over the last couple decades they prefer to have white objects in their ears rather than communicate with others of their kind. Why? It’s still a mystery.

Suddenly, all chatter stops. Heads spin and look in the same direction. They can sense its arrival. The host that they will board for this migration approaches. Some sorting seems to happen. Instinctively they arrange themselves into some linear fashion to ease the process of climbing onto the host. It is truly amazing to witness…an immediate hierarchy is established and, without a word, is agreed upon.

Just then, we can see it. A large lumbering beast, displaying vivid yellow coloring that cannot be missed. It is not known why this relationship exists, but it actually stops right in front of this band of young humans.

In a most extraordinary show of trust and cooperation, it opens itself up and allows these young ones to crawl directly inside of its midsection. It closes itself up and lumbers on to gather more and more of these small tribes. We have recorded up to seventy-two young humans entering these yellow giants as they move from path to path.

And then, they are gone. The small towns become eerily quiet without the young ones around. The parents seem amazingly content with this arrangement as they go about their daily routines. Some of the other creatures, such as the canines, are less enthusiastic. They seem to linger in doorways or by windows as if in hope the little ones will return.

And they do!

While the morning migration was subdued, the return migration is an explosion of energy. The yellow beast barely has time to open itself up as the young charge forth. They scramble, running in every direction as they seek out their way to their homes. The neat bags of provisions are drug behind them in their haste. From their disheveled appearance and the look of near starvation on their faces, we can only imagine how hard this trip was for them.

But they seem to recover quickly…by the time the sun rises again they will begin to gather once more for the great migration.