There is symbolic as well as actual beauty in the migration of the birds, the ebb and flow of the tides, the folded bud ready for the spring. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature - the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.
Rachel Carson (The Sense of Wonder)
Every year hundreds of sandhill cranes return to these fields. It’s a small town, and a small area of a small town, and they have come here for as long as anyone can remember.
Feathers so fine and smooth along the neck scallop at the shoulder then lengthen across the back until at the tail, each one is long and distinct, gracefully rounding.
They know I am here.
Everybody grooming for the camera, while the bodyguard keeps the paparazzi away. (me, anthropomorphizing)
Two heads are better than one.
It’s not exactly graceful when they come in for a landing…
She’s skeptical…
But they do manage to land…
With so many birds in one place, sometimes feathers get ruffled - these birds were just walking around minding their own business when a couple decided to stir up some trouble.
So many giant birds in one place. It’s magical.
The earth was dancing with the cranes, and the low sun, and the wind and sky.
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
I know the sandhill cranes come here every year (if you want to know more about them, click here), but I don’t always go to see them, even though it is only a few miles from my house. This year, an overpass on the road I usually take is being repaired, and the detour takes me past the fields where they land along their migration route. So, I’ve seen them nearly every day for the past few weeks. I kept thinking I should stop and get some pictures, so one warm day last week I brought my camera and a tripod along with me. It was hard to decide where to focus. There were literally hundreds of birds in the shorn fields. I hope I chose well - and you enjoy the pictures.
Thank you so much for being here! I will see you next week!
