Like Bob, when I was with others in Western Nebraska a few years ago, we
watched sandhill cranes feeding in the stubble fields all around. But toward
dusk
they mostly took flight and headed for shallow streams and rivers. We were
staying between Kearney and Grand Island, so watched the cranes (one incredible
whooping crane had migrated early, with the sandhills, and had birders flocking
from all over the adjoining states) fly in to roost at night in the water, on
the Platte and feeder streams. We went out to watch their pre-dawn departure
from their night roost out to the farm-fields at the wonderful Rowe Sanctuary
near Kearney. The sound alone in the darkness is an experience never to be
forgotten.
Leni Friedman
Arlington
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