Sandhill cranes at Jasper-Pulaski Stae Game Area (IN), November 2009 (photographed by Tim Wallace).
The bird of Thanksgiving this year was sandhill crane. Thousands of birds migrated south over from the Tuesday before to Thanksgiving. Did I learn this by being out in the field? Nope, I heard them as I sat in my little space organizing ppigeon material. While there are certain stimuli I can ignore when engrossed in work (even hunger on occasion, although I guess you will just have to take my word for that as all the empirical evidence suggests otherwise), crane music is not among them. And apart from the sheer majesty of their utterances, I am moved by two other considerations.
When I started birding in the late 1960’s, there were precisely two pairs of sandhil cranes nesting in the 19 counties of the Chicago region and that was at the Tichigan refuge in northwestern Racine County (WI). The number then stopping at Jasper Pulaski were in the low hundreds. Over the ensuing years we have learned that these large conspicuous birds whose voices once serenaded mammoths can share territory with millions of people. This knowledge provides a small defense against what could otherwise be a devastatingly bleak prospect. Of course, the resiliency of cranes was noted years ago by the Lawrence Walkinshaw whose book on the species is a classic. He noted that they could get by quite well with small marshes and that what they really needed was to be left along- the most important conservation measure that could be taken was to merely stop killing them.
The second consideration is that on those days when the cranes are moving and their magisterial song settles over the desolate landscapes created by urban sprawl, they imbue the common place with wildness that not even the most andocentric can ignore. We have residing across the street and a house over a couple of young men whose passion seems to be drinking and sharing the loud obscenity- laced noise they call music (I am showing my age). Even they were forced outside one October day a few years ago, staring into the sky wondering what the strange sounds were as the flocks flew particularly low. I can think only of periodic cicadas, which emerge by the many millions to animate what otherwise seemed like thoroughly domesticated backyards. Even the most obtuse among us can not help but notice these touches of the wild as they intrude on our inner sanctums.
Joel,
Just found your blog. I had just done a different search that led me to a journal article by Walkinshaw, and your reference has me looking for his book. Are you talking about “The Sandhill Cranes” (1949) or “Cranes of the World” (1973)? Or another book that may not be listed on Amazon?
Thanks.
I must have failed to hit send earlier today. I was interested in your reference to the Walkinshaw book, having just seen an article of his before coming across your page. You mention his book on “the species”, which makes it sound like you’re referring to his book on sandhills, which is much older than his Cranes of the World, and that’s the only thing that has me wondering. A lot was learned in the quarter century between the two books, making me think you might have meant the later book.
I’d love to hear which one you had thought was particularly good. I might try to order one, but it’s going to be sight-unseen, since none of the used book sellers have scanned any page-views. If you have any advice, thanks in advance.
Ryan,
I realized that I did not fully answer your query. I think very well of “The Sandhill Cranes” (I like the monographs with lots of historical data written by true devotees) but am not as familiar with the more recent volume.
Joel