By David Horst sandhill7@gmail.com
TOWN OF HORTONIA — The annual International Crane Foundation Midwest Crane Count is a special morning for me, one I’ve shared with others only a couple of times.
TOWN OF HORTONIA — The annual International Crane Foundation Midwest Crane Count is a special morning for me, one I’ve shared with others only a couple of times.
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| Sandhill cranes are easily recognized by their grey color and red caps. |
I have to say that standing outside for two hours early on a spring morning is not everybody’s cup of cold tea. To participate in the crane count, you must be at your assigned site by 5:30 a.m. and stay until 7:30 a.m. More than 2,000 volunteer counters at sites across six states are sharing your discomfort.
I like it because it is the one day of the year that I force myself to sit quietly and watch the morning come.
To be accurate, we started by listening to the morning come. At 5:30 a.m. in mid-April, it’s still dark out.
A robin’s melody, a mourning dove’s coo, a turkey’s gobble, a mallard’s cackle, a great horned owl’s who-who-whooo, were all hanging in the morning darkness — as they do every spring morning — waiting for ears to hear them. This morning, ours did.
Kevin Mortara, used to an oncologist’s demanding schedule, was particularly taken with watching the morning’s ambient light come up. It happens quite quickly. We went from finding our way with flashlights to dim shadows on the horizon to usable light in minutes — too subtle a change for a man wearing a stethoscope to take note of most mornings.
It wasn’t until 5:51 a.m. that we heard the first sandhill cranes trumpeting. The calls came from two directions so we tallied two on our ICF list, though their certainly were more to be verified if we could find them in the swampy woods.
It would take until 6:38 a.m. for us to see our first cranes, but it was quite a sighting. A pair flew in from the woods and landed in the hay field we were observing. At four feet tall with a bright red cap, they make a striking image.
ICF wants to know if this is just two cranes or a mating pair. You might confirm that by hearing them join in a unison call or seeing them doing a mating dance. Kevin was at the spotting scope when one mounted the other. Check — mating pair.
In between crane sightings, we were entertained by three tom turkeys displaying for about 20 hens. Spring is in the air.
Six minutes after the first, a second pair of sandhills flew in. Over the next 10 minutes, the first pair left, and five more cranes appeared.
About 7:03 a.m. I was at the scope when I saw something trotting along the edge of the woods. Focus adjusted, I could clearly see a coyote on the move toward two of our cranes. So did they, and they flew off.
I had heard coyotes here before, but never spotted one. I was pretty charged up by that. Most of my companions were starting to get restless with the slow pace and chilling wind of my special morning.
By 7:09 a.m., we have nine cranes on the ground and our count is up to 16, seen or heard. Our people count still engaged in observation is down to two.
We would end the day having seen 15 cranes (and heard, officially, three more), 23 turkeys, eight or so deer, one osprey carrying a fish and one quick onset of morning light.
That adds up to a good morning in my ledger.
Thank you, Dave, for continuing to write. I've always looked forward to reading your observations. You bring so much in the natural space around us to life.
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