Down on the Farm: Baby crane happiness

For at least six years, a particular pair of cranes has made their home in our north field — the one where the airplane used to land, the one that now is our main rotational grazing pasture. Sandhill cranes are tall — nearly as tall as me when standing — their calls haunting in the morning air as the pair comes in to land on their long, narrow legs.

At first, it was just one who would visit while I would be out in the field, tending to the chickens in their tractor pens. Warily, he (I presumed, just taking a guess with the curious bravery) would watch me, then pace over after I left to see if I maybe, just maybe, had left a little bit of chicken feed behind. Our feed is mixed special for us and is a healthy assortment of fresh cracked grains, so there certainly was no harm for another omnivorous bird.

With the repeat of this behavior, I started leaving a little handful for the crane, just outside the tractor pen, naming him Tristan. For weeks, it was only just the one. But then, as September approached, in flew a second with two teenaged cranes in tow! Tristan had a mate and kids! And apparently, word had spread about the treat stand by the chickens, as they were all eager for a bite. Tristan came right to the front while the other three held back, waiting until I had left.

But each week before migration, they grew a little braver, Tristan pecking at the ground where he wanted the treat offering to be laid.

The next year, the same pair returned, their feathers browner than the other duo that had claimed the south field hay pasture. Again, just Tristan arrived first beside the chickens, pecking the ground to announce his desire for treats. Much later, she (who we named Eleanor) joined, and then finally as a trio once the baby was big enough to fly with them.

But then for three years, there was no baby. Perhaps the coyotes had found the chick (called a colt), but it was just the two of them, shadowing us at chores. Cranes mate for life, and these two have remained inseparable, returning each year to the farm.

This year, though, their routine was different. At first, it seemed that indeed Tristan and Eleanor had returned in the spring, but then for a time we did not see them. They hung closer to the pig pens, searching for scraps, and were quite keen to scrounge through mulch and compost piles. When we were planting the winter squash, no sooner would Kara bring a load of old bedding but the pair would be there, flicking aside the soiled hay, looking for slugs and other tasty bits, hardly caring if we were nearby.

Every night, instead of staying in the north field, the pair would fly to the southeast, calling as they went. And every morning, they would return soon after dawn, announcing their arrival as they flew. Where were they going, and why?

Well, the answer to that arrived this week. It seems that Tristan and Eleanor decided that while they still liked the farm, they needed a new nest sight, and their baby was finally big enough to join the morning commute. Just this last Tuesday, Mom arrived at Farmstead after working in the garden, nearly squealing with glee.

“Laura, I have something to show you!”

She held out her phone, displaying a fuzzy, zoomed-in image she had taken from the edge of the pasture.

There were three blobs on legs, the color of cranes, two of them tall and one of them about two-thirds sized. A baby! We finally had a new baby crane once more! We both jumped with excitement.

Now all three attend morning chores, waiting for their chicken food treat, Tristan pecking the ground to show where he wants it, his brown and gray-blue feathers shining in the morning sun.

Symbols of peace, cranes are such majestic creatures, seeming prehistoric in nature vs. the tiny, delicate hummingbirds that flock to our Farmstead Creamery. Once the colt is big enough to migrate south, we will miss their morning and evening calls, awaiting their hopeful return in the spring, often when there is still snow on the ground.

Life really does find a way, helped along by those who care. This week, take time to enjoy the birds we only have in the summer season up here in the Northwoods. This is their home just as much as it is ours. See you down on the farm sometime.