Today’s post covers a lot of ground, but is also a pretty good representation of the current state of spring in Nebraska. There are still hundreds of thousands of sandhill cranes on the Platte River (and there were more than 90 whooping cranes around last week). Simultaneously, spring wildflowers are starting to pop.

I don’t remember many years when I could walk the prairies and see hordes of cranes and blooming wildflowers at the same time. This year, the cranes are being slow to leave and flowers are coming a little early. Does that mean anything? I have no idea. I guess it means a lot of sandhill cranes get to look at pretty flowers before they continue their northward journey. That’s probably nice for them.

Two days after I took the above crane photo, I was showing some friends around our family prairie. After they left, I stuck around to photograph wildflowers, which isn’t something I’ve been able to do since last fall. It was like riding a bike, in that I remembered how to do it. (It was also very much unlike riding a bike, in that there was no bike and I was lying flat on the ground. Lying flat on the ground is usually a sign that a bike ride has gone poorly.)

As per usual, almost all the first flowers to bloom were found where cattle had grazed the hardest last year. The short-cropped vegetation and patches of bare soil, especially on south-facing slopes, probably facilitated a little warmer soil and more light for early growth. You could argue, of course, that maybe there were wildflowers hiding in the taller grass in other parts of the prairie. You’d be wrong, but you could argue that if it made you happy. The flies, moths, and other early-season pollinators would be on my side of that argument. They were all hanging around in the short grass.

It was nice to try out my new camera gear on some wildflowers, since I transitioned into the mirrorless camera world after the end of last field season. So far, the reports are mostly positive on the new equipment. I’m especially enjoying the Canon RF 15-30mm that lets me focus nearly to the front of the lens and provides some cool perspective photos that include both the flowers and their surroundings.

Riding high on the wildflower bounty at our family prairie, I drove up to Gjerloff prairie the following day to see what else I could find. I was really hoping to come across some patches of Carolina anemone (Anenome caroliniana) but I failed to find any. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to find some prairie false dandelion flowering on some steep south-facing slopes (also in sites that had been grazed last year).

I did some more camera gear experimentation and played with lots of perspectives as I photographed the handful of plants that had started blooming. The 15-30mm lens was nice, but so was the Canon 185mm macro and the Laowa 90mm macro (2x magnification!). You know you’re a big deal when you own TWO macro lenses, I guess. (Oh, look at mister big shot with his TWO macro lenses over here! One macro lens isn’t enough for MISTER BIG SHOT, is it??)

You all have these kinds of internal monologues too, right?

On my way out of Gjerloff Prairie, I stopped to photograph some particularly charismatic lichen on a dead sumac stem. That’s not to imply all lichen aren’t charismatic – of course they are. These just seemed especially pretty at the time.

That was late last week. This week started with a trip up to the Niobrara Valley Preserve. I had a few things to accomplish up there, including giving the new(ish) Fellows some more time to explore the place. Another of my objectives, though, was to photograph pasqueflowers (Pulsatilla patens), which I’d been told had started to flower. The Fellows got their exploration opportunity, and I did photograph some pasqueflower, but the flower photography went a little differently than I’d envisioned.

We drove through light rain and mist during most of the trip north to the Niobrara River. However, as we started up the final (muddy) road north, the mist abruptly turned to snow and we were immediately driving on 3 inches of snow on top of mud. That was more than enough excitement to be getting on with, but we managed to arrive safely. There wasn’t much opportunity for photos that evening, but the Fellows and I caught the sunrise Tuesday morning from the bluffs north of the river.

After sunrise, we went to check out the state of the pasqueflowers. In my head, I had visions of lovely blossoms, artistically framed by freshly-fallen snow. Years ago, I came across that exact phenomenon on a spring break trip to the Nebraska panhandle and I remember it fondly. This time, I think the cold weather had more time to work on the flowers and they were a little less impressive than the ones in my memory. We’ll try again in a few weeks.

I don’t know if there were other plants blooming up at the Niobrara Valley Preserve. I doubt it, but the snow cover made it hard to confirm or deny. I was a little disappointed not to add some pretty pasqueflowers to my Spring 2024 photo album but we’ll try again in a few weeks.

On the other hand, it was nice to get one more chance at snow photography before the season completely transitions. It was also a fun juxtaposition with the relative bonanza of wildflowers just a few hours’ drive to the south. Hour’s? Hours’? No one knows how apostrophes really work. I suppose it has to come after the “s” since the drive was possessed by multiple hours, right? Better than being possessed by ghouls, I guess. Possessive ghouls are the worst.

Also, you know how sometimes words suddenly look like they couldn’t possibly be spelled correctly, even when you know they are? I’m not kidding – I just typed “Hour” into Google to double check. While we’re at it, “ghouls” is another word that doesn’t look like it’s spelled correctly. Brains are funny.

Anyway, the Fellows and I played around in the snow for a couple hours (if that’s even a word) and called it work time. Don’t tell anyone. The secret will be hours.

Kees, one of this year’s Fellows, grew up near Los Angeles (the one in California), so seeing real snow was on his list of wishes for this year’s Fellowship. He’s already had a few opportunities to see it since arriving in early February, but the shine has apparently not worn off yet. It was fun to watch him revel in both the snow and the big broad prairie landscape – another item on his Fellowship wish list. There should probably be a comma or two in the phrase “big broad prairie landscape” but it doesn’t feel like we should be breaking up big broad prairies so I’m not gonna do it.

In summary, Spring is here. Wildflowers are blooming in south-central Nebraska and there’s snow in the north-central part of the state. Western meadowlarks are singing, but they’ve been doing that for a couple months and I’m not convinced they really mean it yet. Also, prairie ecologists with new camera gear are enjoying the chance to try it out on real wildflowers instead of their spouse’s house plants.

Cranes are still hanging around the Platte River in huge numbers, but surely the sunny days and south winds will clear a bunch of them out this week. I hope they all get to see a few flowers before they go. Most of them will soon be setting up nesting sites in cold northern locations that won’t see much green growth for at least a few weeks after their arrival. At least they don’t have to drive over snow-covered muddy roads to get there. And they don’t have to worry about whether “hours” is a real word or how to correctly use apostrophes and commas.

I want to thank everyone who submitted questions in response to a post from last month requesting them. I think I’ve responded to everyone, though not always with a robust or satisfactory answer. As I frequently tell people, I’m far from an expert on all things prairie (and am absolutely not the insect identification expert people often think I am). In fact, as many of the other ‘more mature in age’ readers will empathize with, my expertise seems to diminish each year as I become increasingly aware of how complex the world truly is.

Anyway, if you haven’t already, I encourage you to scan through the questions and answers in the comments section of that post. It was fascinating to see the themes that emerged from the questions this time around. There were a few soils/nutrients questions I gave poor answers to, and the always-expected-and-welcomed question about the differences between bison and cattle. Apart from those, however, it was fun to see how many people are trying to convert their lawn to prairie or are working on similar, but larger, restoration/conversion projects. It’s been really inspiring to see the energy around those topics continue to grow over the years.

Today’s post is about sandhill cranes and the annual spring migration and major staging event along the Central Platte River in Nebraska. Seeing hundreds of thousands of cranes each spring is a pretty sweet employment benefit here at our Platte River Prairies. Sandhill crane calls are our soundtrack of spring, and multitudes of gray birds form a joyful background to our daily work. It’s not a bad gig.

I’m no wildlife photographer, as I’ve stated many times. I don’t have either the equipment or patience to do what real wildlife photographers do, so I don’t try to compete in that arena. Most of my photography centers on the little organisms that make up the biological diversity of prairies and that I find endlessly fascinating. I can photograph those with my cheap cameras and a simple macro lens, which both saves me money and gives me the chance to continually discover, capture images of, and learn about new species.

However, I do carry my camera with me most places, and that includes going into viewing blinds along the Platte River, where we take our members and supporters out to see cranes up close. As a result, I end up getting a few photos each year – and, more recently, a little video footage.

I’ve had a couple nice viewing experiences this year and I took a few photos and videos that I thought I’d share today for those of you who haven’t gotten to see this phenomenon for yourselves. If you’re not familiar with the broad story of cranes and the Platte River, you can read a quick summary of the annual phenomenon here. You might also be interested in a recent blog post on The Nature Conservancy’s Cool Green Science blog that talks about an observation I made a few years ago of cranes staining their gray feathers rusty brown.

On a recent evening viewing blind trip, we had a couple Canada geese land by themselves quite a ways upriver of where sandhill cranes were starting to gather. I liked the way the geese were silhouetted against the river, which was reflecting post-sunset color. I kept my eye on those same two birds as their temporary solitude became overrun with noisy neighbors over the next half hour or so.

Other than watching those geese, I took a few other photos of crane silhouettes, but ended up focusing more on the people watching the birds. I’ve had the viewing blind experience so many times now that most of my enjoyment comes from watching people having their first opportunity.

Given the choice, I prefer visiting our viewing blinds in the morning rather than in the evening. Both are worthwhile, but different. In the evening, we watch birds descend from the sky in large noisy groups and land. That’s terrific, but by the time they arrive, there’s usually not a lot of light left to watch them interact with each other. In the mornings, we sneak in while it’s still dark and get to watch the cranes wake up and prepare for their day. Their activity levels increase as the sun rises, leading – usually – to their departure to go feed all day in grasslands or corn fields.

I love watching cranes in those early morning hours. At first, they’re pretty calm, and start eating, drinking, and exploring around them as the day slowly brightens. Later, there’s more nervous energy in the crowd that seems driven partly by sexual tension – lots of crane pairs ‘dancing’ with each other in leaping displays that sometimes includes throwing of sticks or other objects. They also jump and posture in apparent attempts to shoo neighbors away from their mates. (“Hey, back off sister, this one’s MINE!”).

As some birds start leaving the river, all the others start bouncing around even more. A perpetual question among their human viewers is whether the same groups of birds leave the river together each day. In other words, when 15 or 20 birds take off in the morning, are those the same 15 or 20 birds that hung out the previous day? Or are the daily cliques of birds determined more randomly, based on who decides to lift off just because the cranes next to them are leaving? There are definitely family groups – pairs, with or without a juvenile – but beyond that, we really don’t know much about how they decide who to hang out with each day. They all look alike, after all (at least to us).

Here are three videos I made during a morning visit to the river a couple weeks ago that will give you a feel for the morning viewing blind experience. (If the videos aren’t working and you’re reading this in your email, click on the title of the post at the top of the email to open it online.)

Our annual crane season should extend for another few weeks, though I expect we’ll see a lot of them starting to head north as soon as we get some sunny days and south winds. (They also pass through as they head south in the fall, but typically in relatively small groups that don’t stop by for long.) It’s nice to see the cranes each year, but it’s also fun to see them spiral upward into the air, riding thermals higher and higher until they finally catch a tailwind toward their breeding grounds. We’ll enjoy the spring soundtrack for as it lasts this year, knowing the cranes will be back again next year.

If you’re interested in making the trip to the Central Platte River to see the annual spring staging event of sandhill cranes, you’ve got lots of options. It’s easy to just drive county roads near the river, especially between the cities of Grand Island and Kearney. The cranes are all over the place in the field, where you can observe them from your car. (Please don’t drive onto private property – stay on the road and in your car where you won’t bother either the birds or our human neighbors.)

The best experience, though, is to get into a viewing blind. If you’re a Nebraska member of The Nature Conservancy, you should get an email, postcard, or other communication each year, inviting you to free opportunities to watch cranes from our viewing blinds. If you’re not (and why aren’t you?), there other terrific options, including guided tours offered by our conservation friends at National Audubon Society’s Rowe Sanctuary and the Crane Trust. Our blinds are used only for the limited number of trips we take with our members and supporters, but those other two organizations cater very well to the general public. Please check them out!