The Sandhill Cranes are coming to town

I got out of fieldwork a bit early, so I decided to see what the birds were up to at the Rio Grande Nature Center. It was early enough to see the action under the dimming afternoon and finally the cold in Albuquerque let up a bit - either that, or I am just getting used to winter coming soon and the dry cold. It sometimes takes me a while I've noticed since moving up a mile high.

I've gone back and forth with birdwatching for about 5 years now. I have tried to remember what got me into it. It's not like I've ever met anyone who showed me this particular hobby or passion. I suspect the introduction wasn't all that dramatic. But the thought of devoting time to watching something out there, in the world, and learn nuances and technicalities and details on something so seemingly inane as birds called to me. My nature leans toward visceral and spastic - sounds and movement and communication that are so not nuanced or graceful. I needed something to bring me down to the ground, stop for a moment, and notice the world.

So birdwatching it is.

And I suck at it. I've devoted a good part of 2010 taking it in, and still can't get my waterfowl down pat. But it's one of the few things I really enjoy in an otherwise mindboggling year.

Still, I saw some sandhill cranes today. I climbed up a sandy bank. Their call is unmistakable, a cooing that sounds like a heart that is soothed and recovering quietly. I'm going to their festival this weekend in Socorro. I saw a few dozen flying overhead in formation, headed south. They're dressed to the nines and ready for the party.