Yesterday afternoon, while reading under a clear blue sky, I heard the distinctive bugling of sandhill cranes. A flock of fifty-five cranes was passing overhead, almost too high to see.
During this autumn of sluggish waterfowl migrations, the cranes seemed to signal that our seasonal spectacles will still unfold, tardy though they may be. A couple of potent cold fronts should bring the flocks south.
Heading for wintering grounds in New Mexico or West Texas, sandhill cranes pass over the Front Range urban corridor each autumn. We birders hope to witness their journey and I am grateful to have been in their path.
