Read the beginning of Chapter 1, "Lesser Sandhill Cranes", from Sandhill and Whooping Cranes: Ancient Voices over America's Wetlands by Paul A. Johnsgard:

"There is a wonderful old tradition in some parts of Scandinavia, in which the children hang their stockings outside their houses during those days in early spring when the European common cranes first return from their wintering areas in France and Spain. Sometimes the children place an ear of corn or some other gift for the cranes, whose welcome voices and overhead flocks are the surest sign of spring and renewed hope for the future after enduring a long, unbearably dark and frigid Scandinavian winter.

Spring in the northern latitudes is an auspicious time to be alive—a time above all to watch birds—the word auspicious is of pre-Christian origin (from the Latin), meaning to divine the future by watching the movements of birds.

Each spring the arc of the sun swings slowly northward until it reaches the vernal equinox in late March. Then for a singular day it rises above the horizon at exactly due east, and also sets precisely twelve hours later at due west. At such times I am reminded of Eos, Greek goddess of the dawn, her pre-sunrise presence projected above the eastern horizon as pinkish fingers of radiant light. We have a collective cultural memory of her to thank for the Old English word “east,” meaning the direction of sunrise. Indeed we must also thank Eos for the idea of Easter itself, which was once a pagan celebration of the annual vernal return of the sun, and of the inevitable victory of spring’s renewal over the long darkness of winter.

And so I turn my eyes toward the east each spring, making sure that I am witness to at least one sunrise and sunset in the company of migrating birds. Most often it is shared with sandhill cranes gathering in the Platte Valley, but occasionally with migrating wildfowl that are also stirred to move northward, following the northward sweep of the sun. In some special places, and at such precious times, it is easy to imagine that one is a part of a different world, where warfare and famine are far removed. There the combined noises of wind, uncounted wings, and a chorus of skyward voices are little if at all different from the sounds that were present during the last ice age of one hundred thousand years ago." 

To read a longer excerpt or to purchase Sandhill and Whooping Cranes visit http://www.nebraskapress.unl.edu/product/Sandhill-and-Whooping-Cranes,674784.aspx.

Meet Paul A. Johnsgard in person on February 9, 2011 at 7 pm when he discusses Sandhill and Whooping Cranes at the UNL Bookstore, Lower Level, City Campus Union, Lincoln, Nebraska.