Another Note in the Greenway Symphony

I heard them this morning before dawn. The rolling, gutteral clamor of the resident Sandhill Cranes carried over a mile from the Sycamore Wetlands to my neighborhood as I walked the dog. Earlier, I started at several clusters of bangs--I assume hunters--from roughly the same direction. I wondered if the sound of the shots roused the cranes or if they were starting their day regardless.

It is such a joy to have a resident family of Sandhill Cranes living near the Greenway. Tall birds with slender necks and legs and a ruffly bustle of feathers over their rump, they evoke elegance and grace as they stride through a stubbly corn field or cross the sky with strong beats of their wings, both legs and necks outstretched. Cranes around the world are known for their courtship dances, with mates leaping and bowing.

At the same time, there is an undeniable prehistoric feel to these birds. Their call, so distinct from that of our other, more common birds, has been heard over the Great Plains for more than 2 million years as they migrate in huge flocks of hundreds of thousands of individuals.

As I strolled along the Greenway later the same morning, I again heard the cacophony of cranes among dozens of honking geese and hundreds of squabbling ducks hanging out at the wetlands. Against the morning light, three cranes winged over the water, calling the entire way as their wings arced and their bodies pivoted to a slant prior to descending.

A short time later, I could hear the cranes calling again, this time from beyond the soccer park. The raucous sound mingled with the excited shouts of children and their families, two extraordinarily different journeys coming together along the Greenway.