It was geese and swans and cranes, oh my!

Have you ever visited Crex Meadows wildlife area? If not, you're missing a fantastic opportunity to view some pretty country plus multitudes of waterfowl and wading birds. The Better Half and I went this morning and spent a couple of hours cruising the roads through the area. Notes from the folks who are regulars tell us that the sandhill crane population is still a couple of weeks or so from peak. That may well be, but being shy of population peak doesn't mean there aren't lots of cranes to see, including a rare whooping crane (which we failed to see in our travels) reported south of Grantsburg.

sandhill cranes in a pond at Crex Meadows

Photo by J. Harrington

Leaf colors haven't yet reached peak but are increasing day by day. The drive up and back through St. Croix valley farm country was as enjoyable as the drive around the Meadows. Since we've had precious few sunny days to enjoy this Autumn, we put aside a few chores that need attention but can be accomplished on a rainy day. As I've mentioned from time to time on this blog, waterfowl hunting used to be may favorite kind of hunting. I enjoy wetlands, bullrushes, duck boats, decoys, shotguns and being in a blind before the ducks start to move. The edge of a duck marsh is a wonderful place from which to watch the world come alive. Even though it's been a few years since I've swung on a goose or a drake, I still like getting out amongst'em. Today we saw more swans at one time than I've ever seen, including a number of trips to Lac Qui Parle goose hunting zone.

many swans feeding and loafing at Crex Meadows

Photo by J. Harrington

We'll watch the weather and see if we can work in another trip late this month to see if we can see what peak cranes looks like. We'll also hope that more of the ducks and geese will have moved down from up North, but we won't count on that. As long as there's food to be gleaned in the fields and open water to roost on, the ducks and geese we know are happy to stay in the North Country until the snow and ice locks them out.

To a Waterfowl

By William Cullen Bryant

Whither, 'midst falling dew, 

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 

Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 

Thy solitary way? 

Vainly the fowler’s eye 

Might mark thy distant flight, to do thee wrong, 

As, darkly seen against the crimson sky, 

Thy figure floats along. 

Seek’st thou the plashy brink 

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 

Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 

On the chaféd ocean side? 

There is a Power, whose care 

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,— 

The desert and illimitable air 

Lone wandering, but not lost. 

All day thy wings have fanned, 

At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere; 

Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 

Though the dark night is near. 

And soon that toil shall end, 

Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, 

And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, 

Soon, o’er thy sheltered nest. 

Thou’rt gone, the abyss of heaven 

Hath swallowed up thy form, yet, on my heart 

Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 

And shall not soon depart. 

He, who, from zone to zone, 

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 

In the long way that I must trace alone, 

Will lead my steps aright.

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