Margie and the sandhill cranes

We have a few rather furtive flocks of sandhill cranes who spend their whole lives out on Sauvie Island, year-round. But in the spring and fall, they are joined by massive flocks of migrating cranes, chortling and purring their watery calls. I love the sound of them, the rush and whirring flap of them, the wonder of their large bodies making their way through the sky.

Today I took Margie out to Sauvie Island to see and hear them again, and we had a fabulous time. She is as entranced by them as I am. We can talk about serious matters next week. She kept gasping in wonder: "All that life," she said, "all that life; it moves me to tears to see it."

Her son, who is a physician in infectious medicine in Manhattan, fears he may have to postpone his trip to see his mom because of the surge in Covid cases in New York. But we didn't have to miss this year's migration, so that was a great consolation. In the second extra, those white dots in the sky are the cranes lit by the setting sun.