Hosting the CranesHow a Doniphan farm family plays host to one of the world's great bird migrations. Story and photographs by Steve and Bobbi Olson |
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NEBRASKANS DO A LOT OF APOLOGIZING
for the scenery along Interstate 80. The fast track through the state follows
the path of least resistance; for much of the way that’s the Platte River
Valley. Admittedly the view from the car window is pretty nondescript.
But for six weeks a year, the ho-hum
Interstate passes through one of the world’s most spectacular birding
events. For longer than man can remember, sandhill cranes and other migratory
birds have made an annual journey from the Gulf Coast to their arctic nesting
grounds. The cranes’ six-week stay in the Platte River Valley allows them
to rest up for the remainder of their long trip.
Arriving with the cranes are thousands
of two-legged visitors – the “craniacs.” Bundled head to toe
in winter gear, faces obscured by binoculars and long camera lenses, they crane
their necks to view the overhead spectacle.
Early mornings and late evenings, craniacs
flock to popular viewing sites along the river. During the day you can spot
them meandering along highways and county roads near cornfields.
A third group shares the fields and
roadways with cranes and craniacs. These are the hosts of this spectacle: the
human residents along the river. Last year we visited a farm family near Doniphan
to see what it’s like to play host to tens of thousands of human and avian
guests.
As we traveled west on Interstate 80,
March winds chased puffy clouds across early spring skies. For the past few
weeks we’d been checking the “Crane Cam” on the National Geographic
website. The video camera is placed in a Platte River roosting area; it’s
an easy way to see the growing numbers of cranes, but a poor substitute for
real-life action.
The cranes’ light-footed dance
is as graceful as their dangly-legged landings are comical. And there’s
nothing like the trill of the cranes, either singly or en masse. That haunting
cry calls us back again and again to witness this miracle that announces the
coming of spring.
Approaching the Grand Island interchange,
we both tried to be the first to spot cranes in flight. While their long profile
is distinctive, when they skim along the ground their pale gray feathers blend
with the corn stubble. A traveler could easily pass by unaware of their presence
in adjacent fields.
We headed south on Hwy 281 to visit
Myron and Marcia Lautenschlager at their farm west of Doniphan. Though the farm
is two miles south of the river, cranes are a familiar sight in the fields.