Saturday Morning Hike

Last Saturday was the coldest day of the season, a hard freeze with a temp of 27 at 7 a.m. A bit chilly for a birding hike, but warmly dressed and well fed, we headed out to see the sandhill cranes gathered on Payne's Prairie near Gainesville.

As is so often the case with birds, the sandhills were heard long before they we seen. Though not at all melodious, theirs is is an arresting sound, particularly when many make up the chorus. A squeaking, gutteral chuckling, fluttering in a thousand throats carried loudly across the marshy prairie. One half mile of easy walking brought the

first flock into view, an amazing sight.

Hundreds and hundreds of stately sandhills busily feeding, so close together they were touching as they stooped to poke through the mud in search of whatever it is they eat. These red-

crowned birds,

dressed in bankers' gray, looked much like crowded pylons, huddled in the grey-brown g

rasses of the old lake bottom. Except for the sound, one would hardly be aware of their presence, so closely matched were they to the dry foliage. But the sound, the sound was indescribable and un

relenting. They seem never to stop their chortling, chuckling talk with one another.

Even more amazing than the sandhills were the two whooping cranes that moved about the edge of the sandhill flock. Stark amid the gray throng, the pristine white whoopers were an unexpected delight. There

were quite a few hikers about, but the birds seemed undisturbed by the presence of people.

While most seemed bent on steady feeding, there was an almost wavelike rearranging of the flocks. Groups of three or five or ten and then a hundred rose above the prairie and flew with stately grace against the cold blue sky, to settle soon again a quarter mile away. Rattling, croaking conversat

ions continued as the flew. Huge wings outspread and flapping in slow motion, necks and legs stretched fore and aft, they looked like for all the world like arrows shot from some gigantic bow. All told we walked three miles and saw new flocks at every turn. One wonders what the resident herd of bison or the dozing alligators made of all the commotion. It was a wonderful outing on a gorgeous winter day.