Five Cranes, Sunrise Light. San Joaquin Valley, California. December 26, 2016. © Copyright 2016 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

Five lesser sandhill cranes fly toward the sunrise

“High horns, low horns, silence, and finally a pandemonium of trumpets, rattles, croaks, and cries that almost shakes the bog with its nearness, but without yet disclosing whence in comes. At last a glint of sun reveals the approach of a great echelon of birds. On motionless wing they emerge from the lifting mists, sweep a final arc of sky, and settle in clangorous descending spirals to their feeding grounds. A new day has begun on the crane marsh.” — Aldo Leopold, “A Sand County Almanac”

When I began photographing California Central Valley migratory (and native) birds a few years back, the initial draw was geese — snow geese, Ross’s geese, and others. But soon I become aware of the sandhill cranes, and I remembered reading Aldo Leopold’s descriptions of these birds all the way back in college. Something in his description was magical and even though I did not know these birds, I remembered his description.

The cranes’ distinctive cry is the first thing I listen for at dawn in the wetlands. They often seem to settle into places a bit more remote than those favored by geese, at least until later in the season. Their flocks are not as large. They often fly in small groups of three, four, or a few more. Their pattern of flight is more level, their wings work more slowly, and they often glide. They also people. Frequently I’ll spot a group heading straight towards me, but with very few exceptions they divert and take a path to one side.

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books and Amazon.
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