Spring Migration

 "There is a river in the heart of North America that annually gathers together the watery largess of melting Rocky Mountain snowfields and glaciers and spills wildly down the eastern slopes of Colorado and Wyoming.   . . .  There is a season that is an unpredictable day-to-day battle between bitter winds . . . and southerly breezes . . . There is a bird perhaps older than the river, and far more wary than waterfowl or prairie-chickens.  . . .  There is a magical time that occurs each year in the heart of North America, when the river and the season and the bird all come into brief conjunction. "  *Crane Music by Paul A. Johnsgard, p. 37 - 38

Johnsgard was a renowned ornithologist, professor, and prolific writer/illustrator. The passage above is one of my favorites and appears on displays at the Rowe Wildlife Sanctuary near Gibbon, Nebraska. Johnsgard died in July 2021 after having lived a remarkable life.   

I've lost count of how many Springs Lance and I have driven to central Nebraska to see the sandhill cranes. Early in March, thousands of cranes and other wildfowl begin their annual migration through North America. They stop in the Platte River valley to rest and feed on corn left in the fields before resuming their long flight. Some will fly as far as the Arctic and into Siberia. Flocks come and spend a few weeks and then move on. This will continue into early April.

This past Monday, the first day of Spring, was sunny and bright with a 60 degree high and so we drove the 120 miles west to Kearney. We spent a few hours on county roads in order to stop and watch cranes. After a bite to eat, we drove to the Fort Kearney State Recreation Area. As March evenings go, it couldn't have been any better. No wind blew, the sky was clear and the temperature fell to only 49 degrees. Around 6:30 p.m., we walked onto the pedestrian bridge and found a place to stand. Up river, we spotted five deer walking across the river.  A few cranes circled as we listened to individual cries. Perhaps they were calling to their mates. Cranes mate for life. How they keep track of each other in that large group is a mystery to me. 

While we watched the sunset, I listened to conversations around me. People come from all over to see the wildlife spectacle. One woman remarked she had never seen a river that looked like the Platte. Her comment came from observation and curiosity. It reminded me to be curious about the natural history of places I visit.

The Platte is not a deep channel of water but a braided river of sandbars and meandering streams. For better or worse, dams and reservoirs dot the North and South Platte branches before they join near North Platte, Nebraska. From there the river flows across Nebraska and into the Missouri. Water-flow through the Platte is a big issue with many stakeholders. 

Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, cranes gathered in field near the river and the crescendo of ancient music began. One can hear the chorus before the birds lift off the ground. As dusk settled around us, large flocks flew up and down the river searching for evening roost. The moment is magical. This year the birds landed away from the bridge but at a distance visible through binoculars. Some visitors were disappointed the birds didn't land closer to the bridge but why would they? The bridge is full of human beings chattering away. Other years the cranes have chosen roosts even further from the bridge. 

The Rowe Sanctuary has established a few blinds at the river's edge. Spaces can be reserved for a nominal fee. One year we reserved spaces in a blind. The pedestrian bridge is up river a mile or so and an inexpensive State Game and Parks day sticker is the price on admission. I prefer the bridge because it gives me a wider longer view of the river and the sky.

The river view was beautiful. Still the water level is low for this time of year. Spring run-off increases the flow but Nebraska has experienced drought status for the past few years. In some areas, winter storms changed the status from extreme to severe. That the oldest birds on the planet (the earliest fossil of a sandhill crane is estimated to be 2.5 million years old) follow the same path across the continent brings me hope. Various groups of concerned citizens, environmentalists, scientists, and farmers come together to protect this fragile habitat. That is also reason for hope. Still, the status of the cranes is not certain. Continued vigilance and support is needed. 

If you want to read more I suggest:

* Johnsgard, Paul A. 1998. Crane Music Lincoln, Ne. : Bison Books, University of Nebraska Press. 

Pfost, Doreen. 2016. This River Beneath the Sky Lincoln, Ne.: Bison Books, University of Nebraska Press. 

or visit the website of Rowe Sanctuary - linked above