migration | The Prairie Ecologist

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I was in north central Nebraska over the weekend because Kim was running the Cowboy 100 ultramarathon. She ran 100 miles in about 23 hours, getting third place among women and sixth place overall – a great race for her!

While she was running, I ended up finding an opportunity to photograph more monarch butterflies than the miles Kim ran. I stumbled upon a big roost just north of the town of Bassett, Nebraska. I was driving slowly down a dirt road and flushed a few butterflies from the tree line to my right. They flew up and then circled back to the tree they’d come from. Intriguing. When I stopped and looked more closely, I saw that there were hundreds of them in scattered groups along about 1/4 mile of trees. Most were high up in the branches, and the overcast skies made photography difficult, but I found a few groups I could capture images of during some brief periods of slightly brighter skies.

Monarchs fluttering their wings as one of their compatriots flew past.

I was particularly glad to find this roost because it’s more evidence of the value of this part of the world to monarchs. I feel like the Midwest and eastern U.S. gets most of the attention when it comes to monarch conservation efforts and funding. We should certainly spend money in that part of the country to improve habitat. However, further west in the Great Plains, there are tons of monarchs as well, both during breeding and migratory seasons. The numbers are underreported, largely because the human population is low and most of the landscape is privately-owned and not well-explored by people who count butterflies.

I made sure to report this roost and get another data point out there. As I shared the sighting with some local friends, I was told they were also seeing lots of monarchs coming through, both in their yards and on the ranches they work on. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the 12 million acres of Sandhills prairies (and the other 8 million acres of grassland in Nebraska) provide a lot of monarch butterfly habitat, but it’s apparently a story we need to keep telling people. So, here I am telling it.

A slightly wider view of that same group shown above.

An even wider view of the same group. I count 54 monarchs in this photo.

Apart from the monarch roost, I didn’t find many other photo opportunities during the day. It was dark and dreary and just breezy enough that things didn’t line up well for photography. Plus, of course, I had race obligations – I had to stay ahead of Kim and meet her at the various aid stations where I could fill her up on water and encouragement. I did stop and watch a little family of milkweed bugs feeding on some milkweed pods, though. I also wandered around and enjoyed seeing the sights without trying to photograph everything I saw.

As the sun went down Saturday night, a large full (or close) moon rose from the opposite horizon. As it emerged, large and pink, I was helping Kim get back on the trail, but once she was on her way, I drove out of town and found a spot where I could take a few quick photos before it got too high.

Full moon, cottonwood tree, and a country road.

My next photo opportunity came at about 4 in the morning. I managed an hour or two of sleep (car camping) but kept waking up to check on Kim’s progress (online tracking tool). When it was clear I wasn’t going to sleep anymore, I stopped fighting it and drove up to a high point above the Niobrara River, where the full moon and rolling clouds of fog created some magical conditions for photography.

Ponderosa pines at the top of a ridge that dropped down to the Niobrara River (which was concealed by fog). The only light source was the moon.

I spent time photographing ponderosa pines silhouetted against the moonlit fog and, periodically, glimpses of the stars above. I also went out into the dew-covered prairie and silhouetted some grasses against the sky as well. Despite being sleep deprived, I was no longer feeling tired. I was totally consumed by beauty all around me and tried my best to capture some of it.

A few stars are visible above these pines but the fog closed that gap soon after I took the photo.

After Kim finished her race at about 7am, I had one more brief window of photography time and focused mostly on the thousands of dew-covered spiders and webs that were scattered along the Cowboy Trail.

A different species of orb weaver (Neoscona pratensis).

Then it was time to head home so both Kim and I could catch up on sleep. I drove and Kim tried to doze while icing her ankle and trying to get her stomach to settle enough to eat some food. Ultramarathoners do this for fun…

A runner coming through the fog on Sunday morning, heading toward the distant finish line.

I’m mostly caught up on sleep now and Kim is already dreaming about future races. Fine with me! I’m happy to hand out dry socks, nutrition, and encouraging words now and then if I also get time to kick around some beautiful places with my camera. It’s also fun to see Kim do something she’s really good at, even if I think it stretches the definition of “fun” a little.

If you want to see a little video of the race Kim ran, check out this link. It’s a local news story featuring the Cowboy 200/100 ultramarathon. There’s video of Kim crossing the finish line right at the beginning of the clip and brief interviews of a few of the top runners trying to explain why they do what they do.

I’m sorry not to have posted much lately. It’s not you, it’s me. Well, to be fair, it’s also the roughly 1 million sandhill cranes that come through the Platte River each spring and all the people who come to watch them.

If you’ve never visited the Central Platte River in March, it’s hard to describe what you’re missing. Eighty five percent of the world’s sandhill cranes pour into a fairly narrow reach of the Platte and each bird spends a few weeks or more eating as much as they can. They’re building fat and energy before continuing north to their breeding grounds where they’ll likely be setting up nests in a frozen environment without a lot of available food. While on the Platte, they spend their nights on the river and their days split between corn fields and grasslands, mostly eating corn and various invertebrates.

You can see the cranes by just driving back roads in the area, but the best experience comes from watching them come to the river at night or leave the river in the morning. Check out the websites of our good conservation partners – National Audubon Society’s Rowe Sanctuary and the Crane Trust – to learn more about how to get into a viewing blind along the river bank. If you’re a member of The Nature Conservancy, we also offer a limited number of crane blind tours each spring as a thank you for your support. You can call our Omaha office in January or early February to learn more.

Sandhill cranes coming to the river on a cloudy night near sunset.

I’ve gone out to the blinds with several groups of guests this year and have given presentations to even more groups about this amazing ecological phenomenon. I’ve managed to get a few photos of cranes during a couple of those river bank visits and am sharing some here, hoping to encourage you to come the birds for yourself.

Cranes silhouetted against the cloudy sky after sunset.

Post-sunset viewing from one of our blinds as the cranes settle in for the night.

More silhouettes against the dark cloudy sky.

It’s always fun when the cranes come in on a night with a terrific sunset.

Because the birds decide when and where to roost for the night based on a lot of different factors, we never know for sure what kind of show we’ll get to see from the viewing blind. About a week ago, we watched them crowd against the north bank to escape blisteringly-cold blasts of wind. One a particularly cold morning, some cranes were lying on their bellies to reduce how much of their body was exposed to the cold.

A cold morning, with several cranes on their bellies to (we assume) help keep warm.

Just a few days later, the cranes were already at the river when we arrived in the evening because they’d been hanging around the water most of the day as a way to mitigate the nearly 100 degree (F) heat.

Sometimes, we see cranes arrive at the roost well before sunset, but often they start arriving as the sun goes down and the majority pour in just before it’s too dark to see them. And, sometimes, they decide to roost in a part of the river that doesn’t include our viewing blinds.

The following four photos from late last week show a time progression over about 20 minutes as the sun dipped below the horizon and cranes poured into the river. This was one of the very warm nights when there were quite a few cranes in place when we showed up, but lots more came in as the night progressed.

Just after the sun dropped below the horizon.

All the good standing spots are starting to fill up.

So, that’s what’s happening around here – along with lots more. I will try to get some more blog posts out soon.

In the meantime, I hope you’re enjoying the spring wherever you are, except for those of you in the southern hemisphere who are in the midst of autumn. I hope you’re enjoying the autumn.

Wherever you are, if you get the chance to come see the cranes on the Platte River, I think you’ll find the experience worthwhile.

The Prairie Ecologist

Essays, photos, and discussion about prairie ecology, restoration, and management

Tag Archives: migration

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