Platte River Cranes
March 2004 - Trip Report

Monday, March 15 Arrival in Omaha / Travel to Kearney
Snow glorious snow, we were not quite prepared for this! Several of us had arrived the day previous, so waking at dawn to look out to new snow was a bit of a shock. Though the radio announced that the storm was quickly moving east beyond us, we still had to navigate - an achievement as a huge load of snow came crashing off the roof as came to a stop sign just out of the airport! By Lincoln it was thinning and soon we were looking back to greening fields of winter wheat, Red-tailed Hawks hunting, and near York, an incredible mass of Snow Geese - of the several such congregations we would get to see. It was smooth sailing into Kearney, and just east of Grand Island we started to see long lines of cranes, a spectacle that would set the rhythm of our days, and a feeling that the sky was empty without them. We turned off the Interstate and with Rosemary's navigation skills we thread through a maze of farm roads, staying close to the river where cranes were staging at dusk, preparing to go to their river channel roosts. We settled into our roost and then had dinner at a wonderful downtown restaurant - marred only by poor Mary Jane cracking a tooth. She persevered valiantly through the next morning's crane watching, and through networking we found a great dentist who fixed her right up. Several had come from the East Coast and were happy to sleep soundly this night.

Tuesday, March 16 The Spectacle of Platte River Cranes
Who can describe the sounds at dawn, as we stand nestled behind a simple wooden blind that buffers the fright of humans from cranes, who, unaware of our presence, greet the day the way they have for some nine-thousand years - uttering an unbelievable cacophophy of sound rich as their relict past. We got up very early, to meet Robert Kruidenier, our guide - one that Peg and Phyllis both remembered from an earlier trip where he'd done an equally superb job of showing us the magic of cranes. We drove as a convoy, dimming our lights as we hit the Rowe Audubon Sanctuary parking lot. Standing in the dark, sky full of stars, Robert began our expedition with these words from author and crane expert Paul Johnsgard:

"There is a river in the heart of North America that annually gathers together the watery largeness of melting Rocky Mountain snowfields and glaciers and spills wildly down the eastern slopes of Colorado and Wyoming. Reaching the plains, it quickly loses its momentum and begins to spread out and flow slowly across Nebraska from west to east. As it does so, it cuts a sinuous tracery through the native prairies that has been followed for millennia by both men and animals. The river is the Platte.

There is a season in the heart of North America that is an unpredictable day-to-day battle between bitter winds carrying dense curtains of snow out of Canada and the high plains, turning the prairies into ice sculptures, and contrasting southern breezes that equally rapidly thaw out the native tall grasses and caress them gently. The season is sweetened each dawn by the compelling music of western meadowlarks, northern cardinals, and greater prairie-chickens, and the sky is neatly punctuated throughout the day with skeins of migrating waterfowl. The season is spring.

There is a bird in the heart of North America that is perhaps even older than the river, and far more wary than the waterfowl or prairie-chickens. It is as gray as the clouds of winter, as softly beautiful and graceful, as the flower heads of Indian grass and big bluestem, and its penetrating bugle-like notes are as distinctive and memorable as the barking of a coyote or the song of a western meadowlark. This bird is the Sandhill Crane.

There is a magical time that occurs each year in the heart of North America when the river and the season and birds all come into brief conjunction.."

This was our magical time. For several hours our world was that of cranes. Don and Lynn shots lots of film, though gray skies precluded the perfect shot, they would be great memories. Mary Jane, despite her aching tooth, treasured each moment. And how delicious was that cup of hot coffee or hot chocolate when we returned to the education center around eight that morning. We leisurely took in the exhibits, films, and Robert's informal lecture on the life history of cranes. We watched birds at the feeder, the Harris Sparrow being a life bird for several in the group. A Red-bellied Woodpecker at close range was a treat, and a bold White-breasted Nuthatch came within a foot of the window. We watched Green-winged Teal feed on the mudflats of the river, and in general just enjoyed a leisurely visit after an intense and wonderful experience. We had a great lunch at the French Café, and most rested while Peg and Mary Jane went to seek out the dentist who would fix her right up. Around 3:00 we met again, opting for a walk along the river at the Hike and Bike bridge, where Rosemary and Carol caught sight of a Northern Cardinal, a common bird back east, but a real treat for Don and Jan coming from the Northwest. We saw Bluejay, a flock of cranes in close, and with a cue from Phyllis, a beautiful Cedar Waxwing. The afternoon passed quickly; some caught a quick nap during the film showing at Ft. Kearney. Soon light was fading, and we made our way out to the bridge. Peg spotted a form on the sandbar, thinking perhaps a beaver, and spotted instead a Great Horned Owl, drinking water. We put the scope on it and all got great views - quite a surprise, though we had heard several calling. Cranes became more and more numerous, and the bands of light across the fields and reflecting in the river were just intensely beautiful. It had been a day of cranes. Our final sighting was of several White-tailed Deer gracefully crossed the river while Don captured them on film. Home to a steak feed - beef being the menu item of choice in this part of the world.

Wednesday, March 17 Greater Prairie Chicken leks / Rainwater Basin / Cranes
Nature called us out early again, though Lynn remarked that it was funny to think of 5:45 as later when describing a meeting time. All were game though, and a few even tried cooking waffles ahead of time at the enticing Windemere breakfast spread. We drove in the dark, heading south through several small towns and farms, to a lek Peg had been at the year before. Short grass on an unplowed ridgeline was the attractant for the birds here. In the dark we heard them - strange sounds, like someone blowing air over a giant coke bottle. There were actually two leks, one to the east and one to the west. The East Ridge proved closer - aligned just above a blowout (an erosive feature common in the wind-deposited loess soils of this prairie) we caught sight of several males, who really picked up activity when some females arrived. In the scope we watched them "dance", though this might be a rather loose use of the term. Strut, circle, and yes, the "rabbit-ears" routine - Lynn worked through the physiology of air sacs and just how this could all happen. What a hoot to watch this age-old ritual - males leaping into the air, then bowing, showing off inflated orange air sacs, and bowing their head to host feathers that bobbed like large ears of hares.. It went on for hours; we had time to enjoy the concert of western meadowlarks and to watch Northern Harriers hunting at dawn. We downed a tailgate feast of nuts and fruits and cheese, washed down with coffee and hot chocolate - pretty fine. By eight or so the activity had diminished, so we headed south towards the Republican River - a more southerly drainage that parallels the Platte. Jan spotted a big group of Wild Turkey - a bird we saw pretty regularly from that point forward. A pair of Harlan's Red-tailed Hawk put on quite a show - we were able to follow them from a vantage spot on a farm road, getting both flight and perch shows - wow! Horned Larks were new for several in the group. But the real highlight of the day came as we came out at the base of the dam of Harlan's reservoir, and there were two Bald Eagle, a Red-tail and a White Pelican, all soaring over us at close range! Low water levels precluded getting close to a big raft of ducks, geese and White Pelicans. We tried at several places, getting a nice look at Cooper's Hawks in the process, but water levels this year were just too low. We contented ourselves to watch a busy colony of Black-tailed Prairie Dogs who put on quite a show - for all to see but not for Don's camera despite valiant effort. Lunch in Wilcox was fun at a local café - complete with a few servings of corned beef and cabbage on this St. Patrick's Day. We got the scope out for studying ducks at Funk Lagoon, and then headed in for an hour and a half break before watching cranes at dusk at the Gibbon Bridge. A full an excellent day!

Thursday, March 18 Rainwater Basin / Ducks and Geese by the Score!
After two very early mornings we elected to meet at 8:45, starting our day at the ARCH, Kearney's innovative new museum that portrays life on the Oregon and Mormon trails. The museum stretches over I-80, and the site is used very well. Accessed by a simple escalator, one leaves the modern world quickly behind and is taken into the stories of pioneers and the thundering hooves of bison, all a part of the Great Platte River Road. Several gravel ponds were stuffed full of geese, mostly Canadian - the small Cackling race soon bound for the high Arctic. Soon we were once again surrounded by cranes, Janet saying "oh Peg, this is wonderful!" a sentiment of the whole group. Lynn and Don led the group in a silent slide out of the van, using it as blind to respectfully photograph a beautiful group standing on a small sandbar of a pond, framed behind by two century-old cottonwoods. Rosemary pondered who might also have rested here as the wagons came through 150 years ago. The sun felt warm and we enjoyed the cranes behavior - those at the pond seemed frisky and did some great dancing. Phyllis spotted one leaping, executing perfect 180-degree turns and tossing its bustle of feathers about - a real strutter. Others were positively lounging in the sun in the field, lying with heads tucked in. They looked like perfect gray lumps in the gray winter stubble of this cultivated field. We continued on to Rowe Sanctuary - those comfortable chairs by the big picture windows and bird feeders a powerful draw. Harris, Song and Tree Sparrows frequented the feeders, and Peg spotted Killdeer and Lesser Yellowlegs out on the river sandbars. We reported our great success with the Prairie Chickens and sought news of possible Whooping Crane sightings (none yet). On we went, bent for a farther pond of the Rainwater Basin. To save time on this beautiful day we grabbed lunch at a local Subway - Carol admitted to being her first. Ducks and geese by the score seemed impossible - we met a local goose hunter at the Harvard Wetland, where only the hardiest ducks remained. We walked out the berm, which all enjoyed, and Jan spotted a muskrat. Lynn spotted a pair of Ruddy Duck amid the Gadwall, American Widgeon, Northern Shoveler, Redhead and Lesser Scaup. Two Blue-winged Teal flew in, and all got good lucks of a beautiful blue phase Snow Goose as it emerged from the higher reeds. Carol spotted a most probable Ferruginous Hawk, perched at quite a distance, but with the afternoon heat waves we just could not clinch the i.d. with certainty, and the bird did not choose to fly.

Peg pushed on, determined to find a small cloud of Snow Geese, and that we did, in a wetland just a few miles to the south. Few in the group had seen this spectacle, and we all enjoyed the sight and sound of them. Seven to 10 thousand birds clustered around a small pond. With the scope all could study and find the difference between light and dark phases, and between Snow and the smaller Ross's Goose, also well represented in the flock. Mary Jane's smile was enormous as they took flight; eight thousand plus synchronous bodies, shining silver in the sunlight and gliding in single-motion back to the pond was most impressive. We discussed the ecological problems of their now-immense numbers (vegetation destruction on the Arctic coastal plains where they nest). Carol had us in stitches saying calmly "so if we return next year we should see Chicken-fried Snow Goose on the menu in Kearney?" Indeed she had seen a Snow Goose cookbook for sale - Nebraskans doing their part to solve the problem! Reading aloud from the Roadside History we learned that Kool-Aid was the town of Hastings claim to fame. We were more impressed with the miles and miles of military bunkers that once housed munitions manufactured here during World War II. They made good perches for hunting raptors, and Lynn spied several being used for raising pheasants. Don noticed the many miles of property fenced for the USDA meat research center - different country here.On to Massey Waterfowl Production Area, where a large blind was large enough to house us all. Carol and Janet appreciated the chart of waterfowl - noting we had seen many of the species in our week here. Harriers floating on the wind in the pink light of a winter afternoon were an enchanting sight. It was great to stand above the marsh, entranced by the comings and goings of ducks and geese and blackbirds and raptor - to be a part of their world for awhile - to connect to perhaps an ancient memory of similar productive environments. We drove then north to Grand Island, watching long lines of cranes and the perfect rose-red ball of the sun as we crossed the river and Interstate. We had a delightful dinner at Nona's Palazzo, part of the delight being meeting Nona, who described her family and childhood in Grand Island. She told us of walking by this "house of her dreams" as a child. Now here she was, able to live in it and sharing it with us - these are some of the real memories of travel.

Friday, March 19 Chorus of cranes / Exploring the Prairie
On this last day of winter we were treated to a fine day of spring - though windy, the sun broke through by noon and it was nearly 70 degrees by the time we reached Omaha! The cranes seemed restless and on ready alert with this weather change, but it would be several more weeks before they'd depart. We left to have time the cranes before leaving the river, driving a stretch of road south of the Platte not previously covered, from the Gibbon bridge east towards Grand Island. We had excellent close views of the cranes, and a real treat was a female Northern Harrier, hovering over a sandbar so intent on hunting it ignored us completely. It glided effortlessly as if were over the ocean; here invisible waves were sending updrafts to support it. Near the rivers and wetlands this had been our most common hawk species; in days previous we often saw 6 or 8 at a time. In the fields Red-tailed Hawks were most numerous and today was not exception as we wound our way along farm fields of the Platte and later the Loup River to the north. We stopped at the newly refurbished Crane River Nature Center, first coming to a quick halt on the Gibbon Interstate exit where two American Magpie put on a good show - a good bird this far east. Janet and Phyllis had really wanted to study the prairie grasses, and here they were displayed for review. Phyllis could actually hide in the shafts of Big Bluestem! Mary Jane had wanted to see the local art show on exhibit there, and Lynn did more than a little damage in the bookstore. Carol and Rosemary tried a short and blustery walk, but soon came in to watch American Goldfinch and White-crowned Sparrows at the feeder. On to Dannebrog - Peg was on a schedule so we could enjoy brunch at Harriett's in Dannebrog, the Danish capital of Nebraska. Mary Jane read us the history from our Roadside History of Nebraska, masterfully pronouncing the Danish names. The town is a surprise and delight, tucked off the main road. Harriett's seemed to be the center of the universe, as we had no more than finished our Danish pancakes when the crowds began to arrive for lunch. Lynn bought the cookbook, which provided the next hour's laughs and fun in the van as we all remembered recipes of the 50's that we had loved eating, and now groaned to remember the ingredients. At a State Recreation Area we walked beside the Loup River, envious of the man and his dog in small boat fishing. Cottonwood buds were swelling, this warmer weather tempting the leaves to break through. A number of woodpeckers attracted our attention. Don and Jan enjoyed photographing the beautiful sculptured bodies of the cottonwood trees in this low angled solstice light. We wanted to explore the back roads home, to see some of the rolling Sandhills region. There were pockets of oak and juniper woodlands, but birds seemed quite and we continued on. Peg was particularly looking for Prairie Falcon and Golden Eagle, but neither made an appearance today. Back on Hwy. 92 the traffic increased steadily as we approached Omaha, and soon we traded the peace of rural life for the excitement of shopping in the Old Market area of downtown. First we stopped briefly at the Joslyn Museum of Art to admire the architecture and stone building material - several would return here the next morning to leisurely enjoy the exhibits. We met for dinner at the upscale Upstream Brewery where we shared a great meal.

Saturday, March 20 Departures from Omaha
Those of us not leaving early indulged in breakfast at the French café in the Old Market. Met by Omaha friends Julie Schroeder and Hani Kennefick, we toured the Joslyn Museum, the new and impressive botanic gardens and an exhibit of glass and trade blankets in the historic Union-Pacific railway building. It was time for our flock to disperse, certainly now with more appreciation of the central part of our country.

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