A cold front passed through three days ago, leaving us with three crystal-clear autumnal moonlit nights which, if you were warmly dressed, were well-suited to sitting out in the back yard, listening to the trumpets of evolution. The Sandhill Cranes are migrating and this year many have chosen the night flight, probably because the winds aloft, swirling around a departing low pressure blow in the right direction.
And the sunrise this morning brought hundreds more, flying right over the house. One group was accompanied by a hawk, soaring just below them, perhaps catching a ride on their wing-waves. Being cranes, they appeared utterly unconcerned about the hawk and the hawk seemed only to be interested in tagging along for a bit.
The crane migration, along with hummingbirds, thunderstorms, and Border Collies aging, mark the passage of time for us. When the autumn cranes arrive, we know that another summer died peacefully in her sleep. Surrounded by birds, we know that the cranes will come tell us when spring heads north again next year.
Happy Autumn to all our readers.