I was camping under the stars on a cool fall morning in New Hampshire years ago when I heard my first sandhill crane. It was barely daylight when strange sounds from above forced me to peek out of my sleeping bag (much) earlier than usual. As an avid waterfowl hunter, I am familiar with the sounds of most waterfowl and other local birds, but the odd, bugle-like cries coming through the overhead pines were as foreign to me as they were exciting to hear.
High above was a flock of two dozen strange birds, huge and lanky with extended necks and a distinctive flying pattern, not unlike those of migrating Canada geese, but less organized. Grabbing a coffee at a café later that morning, I described them to a local fellow, who said they were cranes headed south for the winter.
Since then, I have spied a few in northern Michigan, but never in my home state. Closer up, the birds appear almost prehistoric, and I always stop to watch them…