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So it’s supposed to be Spring; awoke this morning to near blizzard conditions. Can barely see out the window; thick beautiful flakes. No deer. No signs of birds.
Last night, when I got home, it was still very light, and I sat on the porch and listened really deeply to the sounds of dusk in Montana, and all I heard was birds and ducks. And, sand hill cranes! They are back!
Lisa and I first saw a pair the first Spring we were in Montana; they looked from a distance like prehistoric animals that’d come back to life, standing in an open field. We saw them closer on a bikeride one night, through the binoculars, and they were stunning. A few weeks later, we saw they’d had a baby. We watched that family all summer as the moved back and forth from one field to the next in the Valley in which we live. One night we watched the father obviously trying to teach his youngster to fl y. He’d honk, hop and flap, and then patiently wait to see if Jr. would mimic his actions.
It was so joyful and so wonderful. This species has become one of our most beloved neighbors here in the country where we live.
