The beginning of our drive across the Nebraska Sandhills and down to the Platte River
It was March. It was crane season on the Platte. This year, we had friends with us for the largest group yet, and the weather was glorious. (Remember we have been frozen in place after standing on our favorite rural bridge in ice and snow.) This year brought early morning fog and mists which cleared into warm, brilliant days.
Thursday was a road day with a long, bright sunset on the bridge. We watched them drift onto the fields and start heading for their site on the North Platte River. (To be continued...)
Sandhill cranes descending at sunset
"Losing air" and tumbling to ensure a stable landing
Coming in over the fields
Against the clouds
Coming in over the water
A flock low over us
Evening flocks on the horizon
Feeding in the field
The darker one is not a separate subspecies, but just an individual into body painting with mud. They do that. This was once called the Little Brown Crane, but now we know they;re all the same--Lesser Sandhills, in this case
Our car is still there. Year 5.
And it is, too.
Swans in the Sandhills
Cranes in the field
More cranes in the field
Looking upstream on the North Platte