Sandhill cranes

A solitary Sandhill Crane walked along the dam at the far end of the pond this morning.

Sandhills do not travel alone. Always there is a Daddy and a Mommy and in the right time of the year, a Baby. Earlier this year, Priscilla and I saw a family of four. It’s always good to see the babies. They grow up fast, though, and at the right time will take flight with their parents and go back to Nebraska and maybe Siberia. And then all will come back next year. At two years or so, the new adults will find that special other Sandhill and soon there will be more babies.

That’s the way things are supposed to be. Sandhills mate for life, so to see an adult alone is somewhat sad.

I went back to writing for a couple of minutes, and then looked up to check on the Sandhill. It was now near the end of the dam.

Behind the Sandhill was another crane, one I took as the same size, but white. I replaced my computer reading glasses with looking at real stuff glasses. The other crane looked white because of the sun’s angle. It was another Sandhill. Together, the two Sandhills walked from the dam and onto another grassy area.

Sandhill cranes

Sandhills have right of way, and they know it. A Sandhill family will walk onto a street or highway, generally with little to no observation of traffic. They know the traffic is there, but the birds (1) don’t care; or, (2) know you will stop. And that is fine.

Yesterday my wife and I saw at the side of the road a Daddy Sandhill, a Momma Sandhill and two Baby Sandhills. The babies were not much more than a foot high and a light brown. They were the youngest we have seen since we moved here almost 18 months ago.

We got to wondering … Evolutionists would say way back in the past, millions of years ago, Sandhills appeared. Poof! Was there only one Sandhill? Did that one have to wait another year or so until its life-partner also Poofed! Into existence? Maybe so. And since Sandhills summer in Siberia, maybe that first crane said, “It’s getting cold here. Think I’ll go down to Florida. Weather’s good there, so they say.” Or, maybe a Daddy Sandhill and a Momma Sandhill Poofed! at the same time. Or maybe dozens of Sandhills popped into existence.

However it was (and I’ll take the idea God’s mind decided on a bird of a specific form and color and disposition), it is good the cranes decided to tour the peninsula.