I traveled to Kearney, Nebraska recently to see the multitude of Sandhill Cranes inhabiting the lacework waters of the Platte River. The birds arrived each evening at dusk, flying in from the nearby corn fields to stand in the shallow and safe waters. Then they took off in the morning to feed again, preparing for their big flight north.
We were there just before they really took off, flying up to Canada and Alaska (and Siberia ! ) to nest, hatch their eggs and raise their young.
We stood in the viewing blinds with others, watching in silence for hours - wide eyes - wide eared - following the movement of the big wings and listening to the many voices of connection - warbling, squeaking, clicking, trilling . . .
Sun setting - night approaching (zoom in on the images )
Returning before dawn we could just make out the birds standing in long lines in the dark. Some birds were quiet with their heads tucked under their wings. Others were restless, stirring. Along the edges we could see birds displaying and dancing. There was a murmuring and clacking which grew stronger as the light increased.
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