2.5 Million years in the making…The great Sandhill Crane Migration
I get off the plane in Omaha Nebraska at 12:00am and drag myself out to the rental car counter with my camera gear in tow.
“All we have is this red Mazda Miata rag top” The kid says.
My mind quickly flicks to an image of myself pulling into the hotel in a Mazda Miata for my first Summit Workshop Event ripping my crammed luggage and gear out of the 4×4 hold they call a truck.
“Do you have anything else, please?” I say; half begging.
“How about a Chevy Spark?” Sure; whatever…just make this as painless as possible.
Waking up the next day, I head out early for my 2-and-a-half-hour drive to Kearney, Nebraska. The ‘Sandhill Capital of the World’ My eyes are peeled on the sky, woods, and fields surrounding the highway, always on the lookout for some sort of wildlife.
We are asked to assemble at 3pm in the lounge at the hotel to meet, chat and get ready for our first night in the blind (A structure that lets you view wildlife while in theory being unseen) I take the elevator downstairs with one minute to go and assume a position leaning against a large square pole, while everyone chats and hugs and catches up. Looks like there are about 20 of us total. It’s a defense mechanism for me to stand back and watch and take in my surroundings and people before I can even muster up the courage to say ‘hi’.
These people all seem to know each other. Even more intimidating. I will not let myself put up a wall on this trip. I will squirm in my skin and let my voice crack while I try to connect to someone; anyone.
We all introduce ourselves and head back up to our rooms to pack for our first trip to Audubon Rowe Sanctuary where the blind is located. ‘Dress warm’ They say, as the wind whips through the automatic doors as a couple walks in from the cold.
We arrive at Rowe and pack under a street lamp and head down the trail about three-quarters of a mile to the path that leads us to the blind. We keep our heads down, whisper, and turn on our red lights on our headlamps. Red light will be the dominant color during these dark visits. Red light is not a wavelength of color that most wildlife can see, especially during nocturnal times of the day. This assures us that we are coming and going with as little a disturbance as possible.
Many small finger trails line the dirt road, marked with signs of each blind that lies beyond them. We find our narrow trail to the blind and like hunters who have just spotted prey, we slow our steps and our heels lighten, so we are almost tip-toeing. Beyond the blind, lies the Platte River. The spot where the Sandhill Cranes will come to roost for the night. It’s a chilly 37 degrees with a stiff wind. I’ve left most of my expectations back in New Hampshire. This is so new to my mind, my soul, and my body. Anxiousness flirts with my stomach and chest. A good anxious, a wild anxious ingrained in my biology and ancestry. We step into the blind and slowly move around in it. This is where we will be roosting for the next 4 days, trying to capture the Sandhill Crane Migration in camera. What now, I think? We wait. We nest ourselves in and find a spot in the many windows of the blind and wait till the sun falls.
And then it begins. Honks and coos are heard in the distance and small groups of Sandhills start to fly over, searching for a spot to land that looks safe for the night. A few touch down, and then a few more follow. They hop and fuss around stretching their wings. I look to my left to the East skies and there they are. Swarms of birds in the distance, just specks of black dot the skies. As they move closer murmurations appear and I feel like my eyes are playing tricks on me. The vocal language of the birds I can hear, but also a different sound. It sounds like a wind. A wind flowing between feathers and bodies in the sky bounce and echo off each other like a soft buzz hitting my ears. And like that; they are here in hundreds, even thousands, but how would I know. I’ve never seen a migration like this before, with the species so thick in numbers there is no use counting. So, I remove the camera from my eye and watch. I watch in silence as the world spins in this phenomenon of wildlife.
Monday 3/15/2022 5:00AM-Fairfield Inn Kearney NE
My body is craving rest and quietness. My eyelids reluctantly open
Monday 3/15/2022 5:45AM Rowe Sanctuary Blind
Red light illuminates us all. The blind is quite large…There are about 15 of us spread out between each of the blinds many viewing windows. We sit in silence, perched, with our heads down while we listen to the muffled coo’s of the Sandhill Cranes behind the wooden shutter doors that have remained closed since we left the previous night around 8PM.
Now we wait. We sit, whispering, adjusting our eyes as padded foot steps walk back and forth along the rubber lined floor. Genius; I think. Rubber floors.
We will be shooting in near darkness, ISO’s cranked up, hoping to get the shot. I sit cross legged on the floor and rustle my body to stay warm and sniffle in between breaths. It’s 27 degrees this morning.
As time passes, Chris gets up and slowly starts to raise the wooden shutters, a total of 8 in all. It’s still so dark, but the coo’s get louder and silhouettes of thousands of Sandhill Cranes can be seen along the banks of the river.
And then as we watch in amazement a flock begins to ascend into the dawn. They begin to get louder and the flapping of their wings intensifies. It’s coming…Lift Off.
This indeed is life-changing.
This is the absolute definition of nature and the habits of the world and species in it.
Wednesday 3/16/2022: 6:47PM Rowe Sanctuary Blind
Tonight is cold as we wait for sunset and for the cranes to descend to the river for the night.
Mike Forsberg who is on Faculty at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and all-around Crane Guru comes over to me and says ‘cup your ears and listen. You can begin to hear their own separate languages.”
So I do. He moves down the blind and leaves me standing there with both hands behind my ears pulling them forward like a child would; to hear better. I close my eyes. The constant honks slowly separate into different pitches, drawls and coo’s. They are talking to each other as a whole species, also as mating pairs and families. Magic.
A Sandhill Crane fossil was found in Florida estimated at around 2.5 million years ago.
Wed 3/16/2022 7:03PM Rowe Sanctuary Blind.
The coyote is seen to the far left of the blind. 1 Coyote; 600,000 cranes. He starts his progress towards the other side of the river, pausing in between jumps across the cold water. He absolutely looks like he’s saying to himself “What did I get myself into” He continues across the river taking cues from the cranes that he should keep moving and heed their warning. Anthropomorphism at its best.
Like the coyote, am I in fact not the same predator of these cranes? As Photographers? As Voyeurs? We come in stealth, eyes to the ground, quiet words and movements, stalking, memorizing habits, movements, and territories of species unlike us?
We creep through the dawn with senses alerted and heartbeats heightened, dressed to not be seen; just as any hunter stalks their prey?
We judge the Coyote, the Wolf, and the Bear for killing our commercially lovable creatures, but they earned their flesh. This is not a movie, this is in their life.
Thursday 3/17/2022–Kearney Nebraska
Hello? Do you see us here adoring you? We traveled many miles across state lines sitting in uncomfortable airline seats to see you. We got up before the sun! Praise us! It’s cold out and not ideal for our naked bodies, so we dressed in many layers in the freezing spring of Nebraska to see you. Acknowledge us here. We love you. Do you love us? No, we do not know ‘love’ There are no human words that define how we live.
And so we wrap up our 4 day-long workshop with one last visit to the blinds on the morning of the 17th of March. I settle in with a rhythm now that suites my mind quite well. My body moves out of bed easily at 5am as I begin my routine of suiting up for the sunrise. My gear is packed and I heave it on my shoulders for one last trek out. I know that the end is approaching. I’ve always been an intensely emotional person and ending experiences where I know they will never be the same again leaves a small dark void in my heart. These mornings, these people, these cranes will all be thousands of miles away from me in less than 24 hours. A distant memory that I try to hold on tight to with photographs and crudely written paragraphs in a notebook.
Do I want to change that person in me? Do I want to change my shyness and honesty? Do I want to change my emotions, feelings, and the core spirit that is my soul? I guess I would honestly have to say no. You would not be reading this today if I were to change. I would never have clumsily told colleges and friends that I’m heading to Nebraska to photograph the Sandhill Crane migration.
Friday 3/18/22-Fairfield Inn and Suites-Kearney
So I hop in the car and head back to Omaha. I swing by Rowe one last time and drive the long cornfields surrounding the town slowly creeping with my head halfway out the window, trying to say goodbye in the only way I know how.
Cranes are among the oldest living birds on the planet. A Crowned Crane fossil, a close relative of the Sandhill Crane, was found in the Ashfall Fossil Beds in northeast Nebraska, estimated to be about 10 million years old. According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, the earliest unequivocal Sandhill Crane fossil, estimated to be 2.5 million years old, was unearthed in the Macasphalt Shell Pit in Florida. Migration between wintering grounds in the south and breeding grounds in the north has likely taken Sandhill Cranes across what is now Nebraska for many thousands, if not millions, of years. Thus, the link between Sandhill Cranes and the Platte River is believed to date to the river’s origins some 10,000 to 12,000 years ago, following the end of the last ice age. -Audubon Online.
Why Kearney, Nebraska? Corn. Corn makes up about 90% of their diet. Keaney is home to an abundance of cornfields as well as the Platte River. Sandhill Cranes start their migration in February from their winter nesting grounds in the southern United States to the Northern nesting grounds of Canada and Alaska. The Platte River is perfectly wide enough and just deep enough to offer the shelter and safety the cranes need at night while they roost. They come in from miles away, fattened up for the day and ready to enter the wintering of night.
Fast Facts
The spring migration population of sandhill cranes in the Central Nebraska Flyway is estimated at 650,000.
Height — 3 to 4 feet
Wingspan — 6 feet
Weight — 8 to 12 pounds
Color — Gray
Migration — 170 to 450 miles/day
Flight Speed — 38 mph
Mating — Begins at age 3 to 4 (Mates for Life)
Eggs — 2 per year
Colleen Dubois Photography~Blog 