Out of Their Element
Altho' we live in town, we're on the last street before the fields start. A rusty barbed-wire fence separates us from the field stretching behind, and just beyond that is what we refer to as "the sinkhole". It fills up with water, looking like it really really wants to be a pond whenever we have a lot of rain, and floods the backyard of the yard next to us which is a lovely park-like area belonging to a woman who lives on the next street up. I don't think this pleases her. Anyway.
Canada geese are regular visitors as are mallards & coyotes - we can hear the wild dogs singing away at night sometimes, especially during the summer when the windows are open. Scott even spotted three deer out there one night, but that was a one time thing. And, of course, opossums, skunks & raccoons swing by for a drink, too.
About a month ago we noticed four large birds standing on the far edge of the water. I eyeballed them, squinted at them, fetched the binocs & ogled them. Blue herons? I just didn't think so, but the day was hazy & they were hard to see. The way they stood wasn't the same as a heron, which stands more upright, and these birds stood with their backs more parallel to the ground. When I saw them flying one day with necks outstretched, I knew they were something else indeed.
Two weeks ago on a clear day I busted out the binoculars again. I could see a red patch on their heads and shaggy little butts. I was excited & ran back in for the Audubon bird guide. The only thing comparable was a Sandhill Crane. But if that's what they were, they were lost as the Sandhill's range is Canada & maybe the upper Great Lakes region. They summer in California or Florida - can't remember, but it was somewhere much warmer than Ohio in winter.
Then, the snow came. The poor birds stood framed against the white, miserable with one leg tucked up & heads buried under their wings. I debated getting a plastic pool of some sort & filling it with water & guppies. When the sun came out, they looked much happier. They cavorted, squawked, cooed, took short flights to the edge of the water & came running back to their comrades with wings flapping. This past Saturday morning I stood in the freezing cold for about 10 minutes in sweats & a fleece shirt, fascinated & thrilled to have the opportunity to watch them.
I told Mom about it. Before we decided to meet in Springfield for lunch, she wanted to drop a recipe off to me. She stopped by the house to put it in the door and, since she'd been yearning to see the cranes ever since I first told her about them, she strolled out to the fence to see if they were there. When I left the house, the four had gone whereever they went when they weren't at the sinkhole so I didn't think her chances for crane-viewing that day were good.
Mom called me all atwitter. "I saw the cranes! But there were EIGHTEEN of them!" I said, "Say what? Eighteen? Behind our house? Are you sure they weren't geese?" She seemed offended. "I know geese when I see them!" I didn't doubt this, I just doubted there were eighteen giant, foreign birds prancing around our dismal sinkhole when up til now there had only been the same four. And, if there were eighteen of them, why'd the damn things have to wait until I left to visit?
But, when I got home, there they were just as Mom had said. I stood there for a moment, disbelieving, but they were raising a tremendous ruckus with their odd calls - "ker-AH! ker-AH!" I can only imagine what the non-nature loving neighbors must've thought. If they noticed.
I trotted inside to get the camera. But, even tho' the regulars were accustomed to me standing by the fence & watching them & taking their picture, the newcomers found a human in such close proximity unsettling, and, with a loud beating of wings, they launched themselves into the air, heading north away from the house. I managed to snap a picture of them in flight, capturing nine of them.
And they haven't been back since. This makes me sad, but they're probably on their way to their sunny spot and a full belly so that makes me happy. And, maybe they'll come back next year. Maybe the four were lost or hanging out to wait for an injured buddy to heal. I'll never know. I just hope to see them again.
Canada geese are regular visitors as are mallards & coyotes - we can hear the wild dogs singing away at night sometimes, especially during the summer when the windows are open. Scott even spotted three deer out there one night, but that was a one time thing. And, of course, opossums, skunks & raccoons swing by for a drink, too.
About a month ago we noticed four large birds standing on the far edge of the water. I eyeballed them, squinted at them, fetched the binocs & ogled them. Blue herons? I just didn't think so, but the day was hazy & they were hard to see. The way they stood wasn't the same as a heron, which stands more upright, and these birds stood with their backs more parallel to the ground. When I saw them flying one day with necks outstretched, I knew they were something else indeed.
Two weeks ago on a clear day I busted out the binoculars again. I could see a red patch on their heads and shaggy little butts. I was excited & ran back in for the Audubon bird guide. The only thing comparable was a Sandhill Crane. But if that's what they were, they were lost as the Sandhill's range is Canada & maybe the upper Great Lakes region. They summer in California or Florida - can't remember, but it was somewhere much warmer than Ohio in winter.
Then, the snow came. The poor birds stood framed against the white, miserable with one leg tucked up & heads buried under their wings. I debated getting a plastic pool of some sort & filling it with water & guppies. When the sun came out, they looked much happier. They cavorted, squawked, cooed, took short flights to the edge of the water & came running back to their comrades with wings flapping. This past Saturday morning I stood in the freezing cold for about 10 minutes in sweats & a fleece shirt, fascinated & thrilled to have the opportunity to watch them.
I told Mom about it. Before we decided to meet in Springfield for lunch, she wanted to drop a recipe off to me. She stopped by the house to put it in the door and, since she'd been yearning to see the cranes ever since I first told her about them, she strolled out to the fence to see if they were there. When I left the house, the four had gone whereever they went when they weren't at the sinkhole so I didn't think her chances for crane-viewing that day were good.
Mom called me all atwitter. "I saw the cranes! But there were EIGHTEEN of them!" I said, "Say what? Eighteen? Behind our house? Are you sure they weren't geese?" She seemed offended. "I know geese when I see them!" I didn't doubt this, I just doubted there were eighteen giant, foreign birds prancing around our dismal sinkhole when up til now there had only been the same four. And, if there were eighteen of them, why'd the damn things have to wait until I left to visit?
But, when I got home, there they were just as Mom had said. I stood there for a moment, disbelieving, but they were raising a tremendous ruckus with their odd calls - "ker-AH! ker-AH!" I can only imagine what the non-nature loving neighbors must've thought. If they noticed.
I trotted inside to get the camera. But, even tho' the regulars were accustomed to me standing by the fence & watching them & taking their picture, the newcomers found a human in such close proximity unsettling, and, with a loud beating of wings, they launched themselves into the air, heading north away from the house. I managed to snap a picture of them in flight, capturing nine of them.
And they haven't been back since. This makes me sad, but they're probably on their way to their sunny spot and a full belly so that makes me happy. And, maybe they'll come back next year. Maybe the four were lost or hanging out to wait for an injured buddy to heal. I'll never know. I just hope to see them again.
posted by RCSure | 1:25 PM
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