with...sandhill cranes

The first time I saw a sandhill crane it scared the beans out of me. I was nearing the intersection of Johnson Mill Road and KY 922 (Newtown Pike); the turnaround point on a routine 6 mile run. Had my headphones on. Completely zoned out. This enourmous bird launched itself off the south bank of Elkhorn Creek, sweeping across the bridge. Looking down as I ran, what I saw first was the shadow, imposingly amplified on the street's surface. Raising my eyes, I watched in awe as he stopped flapping his wings and smoothly glided upstream about 30 feet above the water. 

It was one of those 'what the __________ was that?!' moments. Kind of the like the first time Caleb, Emily and I had to stop to allow a mother wild turkey to guide her family across Gladstone Street in Pittsburgh on our way to the bus stop. There are things you just don't expect to see sometimes.

For the next couple of weeks every time I reached the bridge I'd look to the shaded rocky area where my new friend liked camping out. He rarely disappointed. I don't know if my presence alarmed him or my timing was just impeccable or it was mere coincidence. I do know that I found him fascinating.

Soon, I was driving each member of my family, one at a time, down to the bridge hoping to share my experience with them. How could they not be excited about this elegant creature with its 6 foot(ish) wingspan whooshing up the creek in Georgetown, KY of all places?! This was the kind of thing I'd expect to see closer to the ocean, in Florida, the Outer Banks or some such.  Surely, my wife and kids would want to catch a glimpse of him soaring like an eagle. 

They all humoured me, but none of them shared my joy. They just kind of smiled and said, 'Yes. Nice bird.' 

NICE??!!  Oh well. At least they didn't treat me like I was nuts.

Before long, spring melted into summer and he was gone until fall. Seeing one (the same one?) early the next December affected me the same way as the first. There was just something special about the power and grace and completely out of placeness that I can't quite put my finger on.

This continued through the migratory seasons for a couple years until about this time last year. I read in the Lexington Herald that December 17, 2011 - January 15, 2012 Kentucky would allow hunting Sandhill Cranes. Not because there is an overpopulation problem or because Sandhill Cranes pose any environmental threat.

Nope. Seems they are good eatin' and just plain fun to kill. Why hope vainly to see a member of the oldest known surviving species of bird a few times a year when you could mount its lifeless body on the wall in your den. For years after you could sip a Bud, watch the C-A-T-S CATS! CATS! CATS! and reminisce about the time you popped this nuisance out the sky. You may catch that I think this is...well...stupid seems a good word.

Thankfully, relatively few (50 of the allotted 400 for the season) of these amazing animals were killed.

Apparently, my friend (or a friend or relative of his) was not among the 50. Because today, as I mindlessly plodded through my run, listening to a Radiolab podcast about the human digestive system (did you realize our bodies host trillions of tiny organisms? Neato!), I was thrilled to once again witness the flight of this powerfully gorgeous bluish gray bird scanning the Creek from high overhead.

Nice indeed.