sandhill7@gmail.com
The love of my life and I visited the Green Bay Botanical Garden this summer. As we always do, we went to the domed Stumpf Belevedere gazebo to read the line of Ellen Kort's poetry inscribed there.
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| Ellen Kort |
Showing posts with label Sandhill Cranes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sandhill Cranes. Show all posts
Saturday, September 10, 2016
Ellen's 'Migration'
By David Horst
sandhill7@gmail.com
The love of my life and I visited the Green Bay Botanical Garden this summer. As we always do, we went to the domed Stumpf Belevedere gazebo to read the line of Ellen Kort's poetry inscribed there.
It was the first time we had been there since Ellen's passing more than a year ago. There was such a powerful feeling of loss that we had to leave the shelter.
sandhill7@gmail.com
The love of my life and I visited the Green Bay Botanical Garden this summer. As we always do, we went to the domed Stumpf Belevedere gazebo to read the line of Ellen Kort's poetry inscribed there.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Counting on a good morning
By David Horst sandhill7@gmail.com
HORTONVILLE -- Thirty-two was the number I entered on the form under "Total number of sandhill cranes observed or heard."
It is the biggest number I've recorded in some years for the International Crane Foundation's annual Midwest Crane Count, which took place Saturday. But the most I saw on the ground at any given time was two.
My statistics were built on cranes flying in, flying out or flying over. I heard them congregating, but they chose to settle in a depression behind a few rows of last year's corn stalks, just out of my view.
HORTONVILLE -- Thirty-two was the number I entered on the form under "Total number of sandhill cranes observed or heard."It is the biggest number I've recorded in some years for the International Crane Foundation's annual Midwest Crane Count, which took place Saturday. But the most I saw on the ground at any given time was two.
My statistics were built on cranes flying in, flying out or flying over. I heard them congregating, but they chose to settle in a depression behind a few rows of last year's corn stalks, just out of my view.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Sandhill cranes are my resource, too
By David Horst sandhill7@gmail.com
For many years, I listened to the moans of my newspaper colleagues as they went off to what they described as an endless evening covering one of the spring Conservation Congress hearings held in each of Wisconsin's 72 counties.
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| Sandhill cranes call in the hayfield of Sandhill Llama Farm |
Last Monday finally found me at the Outagamie County conservation hearing at Appleton North High School. I was there for the birds.
While the hearing did grind on like a tortured old winch motor, it only lasted about an hour and a half. No one shouted. No one booed. In fact, not many people even spoke. Even so, I felt like staying through the whole hearing should have earned me a cap or something.
DNR conservation warden Thomas Sturdivant dutifully read through the often minute changes in regulations for fishing in this location or trapping at that hour of the day. Then he came to proposal No. 25 on the green ballot. It was to create a hunt for sandhill cranes.
Check my email address, check the name of our farm, check my license plate and you will see I am a fan of cranes. I raised my hand and made my way to the microphone to state my case for a vote against crane hunting to a crowd I knew was not in my camp.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
More than fog hangs over crane count
By David Horst sandhill7@gmail.com
It's a routine every April -- grab the camera, spotting scope and a notebook, dress in layers and head out before sunrise.
The International Crane Foundation's annual Sandhill Crane Count requires me to sit quietly and watch the morning come.
Saturday, April 14, I'm sitting in a lawn chair at the edge of one of last year's cornfields, waiting for cranes. The count begins at 5:30 a.m. My only company as I set up are the peeping of a killdeer and a fog-shrouded half-moon.
The usual routine is that the cranes start calling from the swamp beyond the farm field and, within an hour, start flying in one, two or three at a time.
This year is anything but routine. The count is taking place in the aftermath of a one-sided Conservation Congress vote in favor of a hunting season for sandhills.
If that were not enough, small orange flags flop in the stiff wind that often seems to accompany crane count day. They mark the corridor of a four-lane bypass highway around Hortonville that will wipe out my crane counting area and dislocate its residents.
It's 6 a.m and still no crane song. Cows down the road bellow for breakfast. Redwinged blackbirds trill their part in the morning chorus, but the lead singers have not taken the stage.
It's a routine every April -- grab the camera, spotting scope and a notebook, dress in layers and head out before sunrise.
The International Crane Foundation's annual Sandhill Crane Count requires me to sit quietly and watch the morning come.
Saturday, April 14, I'm sitting in a lawn chair at the edge of one of last year's cornfields, waiting for cranes. The count begins at 5:30 a.m. My only company as I set up are the peeping of a killdeer and a fog-shrouded half-moon.
The usual routine is that the cranes start calling from the swamp beyond the farm field and, within an hour, start flying in one, two or three at a time.
This year is anything but routine. The count is taking place in the aftermath of a one-sided Conservation Congress vote in favor of a hunting season for sandhills.
If that were not enough, small orange flags flop in the stiff wind that often seems to accompany crane count day. They mark the corridor of a four-lane bypass highway around Hortonville that will wipe out my crane counting area and dislocate its residents.
It's 6 a.m and still no crane song. Cows down the road bellow for breakfast. Redwinged blackbirds trill their part in the morning chorus, but the lead singers have not taken the stage.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Watching the morning? Count me in
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.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Cranes, wolves and paddling
By David Horst sandhill7@gmail.com
Here's a look at this and that while we wait to see if spring plans to stay for a few days.
April 13
I stood out in the driving snow pre-sunrise to take part in the annual International Crane Foundation Crane Count. Punctuating the prehistoric cackle of the sandhills was the occasional disquieting crack of ice falling from tree limbs after the ice storm that entombed tree branches like I have never seen before.
My count for the day was 27 sandhills -- seven on the ground and 20 flying over.
More noteable was
Here's a look at this and that while we wait to see if spring plans to stay for a few days.
April 13
I stood out in the driving snow pre-sunrise to take part in the annual International Crane Foundation Crane Count. Punctuating the prehistoric cackle of the sandhills was the occasional disquieting crack of ice falling from tree limbs after the ice storm that entombed tree branches like I have never seen before.
My count for the day was 27 sandhills -- seven on the ground and 20 flying over.
More noteable was
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Expert says crane hunt inevitable
By David Horst sandhill7@gmail.com
The offer was more than I could refuse. Sit on the bank of the Wisconsin River on pioneering environmentalist Aldo Leopold’s former farmstead, watching thousands of sandhill cranes with an international expert on the big birds.
The evening, and the conversation, didn’t go as expected.
The program was offered by the Aldo Leopold Foundation, located between Portage and Baraboo. The expert is Stan Temple, a retired University of Wisconsin professor of wildlife ecology. He has helped in the recovery of many bird species, including the sandhill, peregrine falcon and California condor.
It was a great opportunity to talk with a man who held the same seat the great Leopold had 80 years earlier. I asked him how cool that was. Temple said it was so intimidating that he didn’t mention it much when he had the job. Now that he has retired, he uses it for instant woods-cred.
He also rubbed elbows with “Silent Spring” author Rachel Carson as a boy working at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History. He remembered being thrilled by getting a set of birding binoculars that were the same model Carson used.
Unfortunately, there was little to interrupt the conversation, especially cranes. It was Sandy’s fault. Winds from the hurricane made the bend in the river where the observation blind is located inhospitable for cranes. Complicating things further, an imposing adult bald eagle was perched above the cranes’ usual evening hangout. First time I ever regretted seeing an eagle.
The offer was more than I could refuse. Sit on the bank of the Wisconsin River on pioneering environmentalist Aldo Leopold’s former farmstead, watching thousands of sandhill cranes with an international expert on the big birds.
The evening, and the conversation, didn’t go as expected.
 |
| Stan Temple Aldo Leopold Foundation photo |
The program was offered by the Aldo Leopold Foundation, located between Portage and Baraboo. The expert is Stan Temple, a retired University of Wisconsin professor of wildlife ecology. He has helped in the recovery of many bird species, including the sandhill, peregrine falcon and California condor.
It was a great opportunity to talk with a man who held the same seat the great Leopold had 80 years earlier. I asked him how cool that was. Temple said it was so intimidating that he didn’t mention it much when he had the job. Now that he has retired, he uses it for instant woods-cred.
He also rubbed elbows with “Silent Spring” author Rachel Carson as a boy working at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History. He remembered being thrilled by getting a set of birding binoculars that were the same model Carson used.
Unfortunately, there was little to interrupt the conversation, especially cranes. It was Sandy’s fault. Winds from the hurricane made the bend in the river where the observation blind is located inhospitable for cranes. Complicating things further, an imposing adult bald eagle was perched above the cranes’ usual evening hangout. First time I ever regretted seeing an eagle.
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