Crane songs

Cranes in flight, moving north

I haven't been here in far too long. I was looking forward to catching up with a long newsy description of the annual trip to the Platte River to watch the sandhill cranes in their ancient flyways. It's a healing and life-affirming trip. relaxing and schedule-free.

Nature had a different idea.

Since we began this trip five years ago, we have seen our tiny rural bridge site in sunshine and shadow, in ice and wind..but never in the first moments of a fierce snowstorm bearing down on the region. The cranes noticed it, too. They were nervous and edgy, gazing north and testing the wind.

It is spring for them in their lives without winter. We had to leave early to miss the worst of the storm blasting across the West, but still had one of the best crane shows yet. Life is here, now. That was the message I needed, and it was enough. Happy equinox.

Facing the north

Moving on

Cabin, Nebraska

Lone crane

Yellowlegs, a bit early

Restless circling flight

Testing the wind

Our favorite car, year six of the documentation project

Rising on an early storm wind

Circling upward

Huge flocks, high wind

Close-up of flight

Catching the light

Moving away

Cranes in the Platte at sunrise as the snow moves in. 

Cranes rise, snow falls. The camera is fine. This is now it looked this morning. 

Visible cold pouring in

Nebraska rest area. Did I ever mention that I love Nebraska? 

Nebraska road crew. That is snow piling on their backs. 

More bad weather

Saturday sunset

It's official. South Dakota has some of the most extreme weather in the country, and we don't consider discussions about the weather to be small talk. We are in the season of hot days and occasional violent evening thunderstorms. Last week the small town of Vivian, SD, made the news with the largest hailstone ever recorded in the US. The stone in question was part of a hailstorm of unimaginable ferocity. Practically no structure was left unscathed.

This has been certified as the largest hailstone on official record. It was apparently not the largest one that actually fell in this storm, just the largest one collected. Photo from the Rapid City Journal.

Here are more more images from the past few weeks.

Storm front sweeping in from the northwest.

Same storm front, view to the east. The temperature dropped 15 degrees in 5 minutes.

Storm coming in over the new building, to be followed by the ritual Dance of the Roof Leak Bucket Brigade. The good news is that our guys seem to have found and fixed all the leaks so far.

Black Hills sights

I have finally found my neighborhood...

I love telling out-of-state friends that I'm driving to Deadwood for the day. It makes them think that I really am living in Wild West Dakota Territory, with pistols and Bowie knives in hand, or in teeth, every time I leave the house. The truth is more prosaic: Deadwood is one of the state's most important historic preservation centers, and the annual Deadwood Historic Preservation Symposium yesteday and today focused on the effect of natural disasters on the Black Hills region's history. Since I have been somberly remembering the Lubbock tornado of 40 years ago this past week, attending this symposium seemed (and was) particularly timely.

The Black Hills themselves apparently act as a bad weather magnet, focusing blizzards and rains on the area. I particularly liked the rather terse quote one speaker cited from a newspaper editor describing the latest disaster: "Anything can happen here; this is the Black Hills."

All that happened today, though, was a terrific symposium on disasters and local history--I am no more living on a creek up here than I am moving to a houseboat in the North Atlantic, I can tell you that--and a great excuse for a meandering drive back, camera at hand.

Elementary school and cannon, two things not normally found in such close proximity.

Sign, Center City

Church building, Center City

Honest Abe as a road sign

Motorcycle in tree. No, I have no idea why, or how. Or why.

Roadside car

I have also found Shirley's neighborhood.

Water wheel, Nemo Road

Giant chair art, Nemo Road

Barn, Nemo Road

Doty Center volunteer fire department building

Here's hoping everyone is having an equally splendid weekend. Stay out of creeks, off high ridges, and away from the windward slopes. And watch out for the livestock....

Bad weather

Scottsbluff, Nebraska

I've missed a few days here for no good reason other than the start of the spring semester. Everyone's back: students, faculty, volunteers, all needing to figure out what is happening and when this spring. More on that tomorrow.

Today we're keeping a wary and puzzled eye on the weather. The forecast for yesterday and the weekend includes, or included, ice, freezing rain, snow, freezing fog, and high winds, in varying amounts around the state, with possible glaciers moving in. OK, ignore that last one. So far we have seen about 10 minutes of light sleet. That's all.

The vagueness of the forecast was enough to make Gene decide to cancel today's scheduled bird club field trip. Driving around in the northern Black Hills means that weather conditions can change completely within a couple of miles, with changes in altitude and microclimate conditions. With forecasts like these, this is a tough call to make. Now the really bad weather is likely to hit tomorrow rather than today, and we have to wonder if we should have gone out after all. We keep telling ourselves that there wouldn't be any self-respecting birds out in view, anyway. That, children, is called self-serving rationalization.

Harrison, Nebraska

My problem is that I actually like bad weather, as long as I do not have to be out in it. Tornado Alley kids all too often turn out this way. We grow up watching some of the most violent and frightening storms that can be thrown at anyone, and wind up either terrified or fascinated, or both. I'm not a tornado chaser, but I do like watching the weather change and marvelling at the swiftness and occasional ferocity of prairie storms. With so much horizon to work from, the weather changes are incredible spectacles. Everything changes in a few heartbeats.

Badlands, South Dakota. Sometimes there is an eerie silence just before the winds roar in.

Before I moved out here two years ago, a colleague who went to school here in this same program reassured me that the winter storms were not all that bad. Really? Thanks, I said, that's good to know. No, he said, what I am saying is that you won't see most of the blizzards until spring.

And he was exactly right.

Spring in Rapid City, 2009. April, to be exact.

So we're not sure what tomorrow will bring--high winds and snow are likely, unless they're not. I am sure that I'll be watching, fascinated, with hot tea close at hand.