A Good Morning

Guest Author: Bev Paulan

A good morning is never guaranteed after a good evening, but yesterday morning might have been the exception. We got as good a show as has been performed yet this season at the Wheeler theater in the round.

Brooke and I arrived at our blind around 0730, which is very close to sunrise. Our radio receiver told us all 12 birds were in the fields near the pond where the pen had been set up, so we were anxious to get a visual confirmation of the audible position report.

As we brought our binoculars to our eyes, we simultaneously uttered “cooooolllll!” as we saw all twelve birds standing in a line among a flock of Sandhill cranes. Lowering the binocs, we smiled at each other, enjoying the ease of the morning check. I thought that if every morning was this easy, I would have no problem removing myself from the comfort of my bed while still in the pre-dawn gloominess.

We continued to watch our charges as they melted into the gray flock, sometimes disappearing completely, just to reappear moments later as their smaller cousins moved aside. Flocks of Greater white fronted geese flew in making their squeaky, unhinged door call.

As the morning grew brighter, the activity of the chicks increased, with one or more jumping at the Sandhills trying to show that, “yes I am bigger and therefore badder”. The Sandhills paid no mind to the chicks, and as the morning wore on they slowly departed for parts unknown in groups of twos and threes and sometimes up to twenty.

We were still watching, enjoying the show, not realizing that the best performance was yet to come.

Around 0800, the two DAR chicks and 19-09 lifted off with a large group of Sandhills and headed toward the slough. The air was filled with ducks, geese, gray and white cranes, and the cacophony was almost deafening, drowning out the morning traffic on the highway.

Still glassing our chicks, we were amused by a Sandhill crane that kept leaping into the air and tossing a stick, seemingly for the enjoyment of the act itself.

About ten minutes after the first three birds left, the nine ultralight chicks all leapt into the air and flew towards us. My camera was clicking madly as I tried to capture digitally a moment that is too remarkable to do justice to with either words or images. One has to experience the moment firsthand to fully appreciate the beauty of nine juvenile, now wild, Whooping cranes, stretching their 7 foot wings and climbing ever higher in the brightening sky. Slowly they came towards us, then overflew us. Mouths agape, we stretched our necks to try to keep them in our view, and then watched them land in the pond near the refuge visitor center.

Knowing that the morning could not get any better, we walked away from the blind, thankful for the show and with the full knowledge that most mornings are not better than the evening before—-but this one sure was.

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