Flight of Cranes

There was a break in the rain this morning and we took the cats outside for a sniff around. It’s a comical sight, each of us with a cat on a tether. Once there they have very different ideas about what constitutes outside activities, but at length Diego knew he was done.

I was taking him inside when I heard the cranes.

Sandhill cranes winter in the Central Valley but we rarely see or hear them just here; there are thousands about twenty miles south of us, throughout the delta where the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers meet. Having them fly over your house feels like a visitation, a blessing beyond blessings. There were over twenty-five, flying in a loose V.

To approximate the sound made by these birds, round your mouth as though you’re saying “ooooh,” and while your mouth is thus rounded roll an r, Spanish-style. It’s an eerie sound, and the standard term “bugling” doesn’t really capture it for me. It sounds like something muffled in the fog, which of course the birds often are, as are all creatures that spend any time here in the winter.

If this sound had a color it would be a rich magenta edging to gray…