Sandhill Cranes in Flight
March 24, 2015
“The very flight of birds is a writing waiting to be read.”
— Loren Eiseley
Cranes at sunset, from the bridge at Fort Kearney Historical Recreation Area
“The Sand Hill Cranes”
by Lola Haskins, from The Poets Guide to the Birds, edited by Judith Kitchen and Ted Kooser
The blue air fills with cries of regret.
The cranes are streams, rivers.
They danced on the night prairie,
leapt at each other, quivering.
The long bones of sand hill cranes
know their next pond. Not us.
When something is too beautiful
we do not understand to leave.
Sandhill cranes in flight
Sandhill cranes returning to the Platte River at sunset
“Migration of the Sandhill Cranes
Sulphur Springs Valley, Arizona”
by Alison Hawthorne Deming, from “Short Treatise on Birds”
Perhaps they would forgive us our
greed if they lived with moral codes.
Instead they take our leavings, corn-
fields crowded with migrants ’till they
rise, wheel, stream apart in columns
then join again. If they have a
purpose, it must be communal
flight, swarms that meet to read the sky.
Sandhill cranes in flight
Bird watchers gather for the evening move to the roosts near the Rowe Sanctuary
“The mountains are calling and I must go.”
— John Muir
Looking out at the Olympic Mountains from Hurricane Ridge, Olympic National Park
My niece is visiting from Israel, and her top sightseeing priorities are some of the American national parks. So we took a two-day, 500-mile road trip circumnavigating Olympic National Park in Washington State. You can get to different parts of the park from inroads along Hwy 101, and our destinations offered extraordinary natural diversity, from mountains, to rain forests, to ocean beaches.
Our first stop was Hurricane Ridge high in the Olympic Mountains. But first we crossed the Sound in a ferry, and then drove through some pretty amazing scenery just to get to the winding road that would take us from sea level to nearly a mile in elevation at Hurricane Ridge.
Field of daisies near Sequim, WA
“I see the wild flowers, in their/summer morn/Of beauty, feeding on joy’s/luscious hours.” — John Clare, from “Summer Images”
Old ruin along Hwy 101 near Sequim
The winding road to Hurricane Ridge
The view from Hurricane Ridge is awesome, with majestic, snow-capped peaks as far as the eye could see. We ate a picnic breakfast amidst some of the most spectacular scenery anywhere, joined by a curious (and smart, crumb-seeking) bird. The meadows at the top were beginning to emerge from snowfields, and they were covered with tiny yellow flowers.
Parking lot at Hurricane Ridge
Mountain view
Picnic breakfast
Avian friend
Snow-capped peaks
Melting snow
Scavenging raven (lovely feathers)
Motorcycle riders (I rarely go to a national park without seeing motorcyclists)
My next post will be a continuation of our road trip. . . stay tuned!
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