Simon Barnes Author and Journalist

Sports and Wild Blog

Simon Barnes

Crane

by 6 Comments

November 1

It was our last full day in the Valley so we took an all-day drive from Tena-Tena to the Salt Pan. Here, the country opens out, the trees fall away and the spring-water creates a little inland delta: an island of wet entirely surrounded by land.

It was an abrupt change of mood from the wooded savannah we had been living in for the past eight days. Here it was almost lush, almost gentle – until you noticed the hyena lying contentedly in the stream, teeth bared in the eyeless mask of a face. A big mosque swallow over-flying the water, hawking for insects, a pair of delicate Namaqua doves, and – count them – eight species of raptor; more easily visible here under the big skies.

And then – and then the soft bugling cries of crowned crane and it was like another homecoming. Like all cranes, so big yet so delicate: picking their way fastidiously across the open landscape, gently calling to one another. I counted 140 of them, their handsome monochrome emphasised by that minute splash of red. They seemed an embodiment of joy and innocence in complex world.

So, as crowned cranes always do, they began to drift away, more or less imperceptibly, never seeming to take a deliberate step, and yet, after a couple of minutes of inspection, you noticed that they were that little bit further away. And then again, two minutes later… in no itchin’ hurry, but always shifting, always just beyond your reach, always just beyond your scope… you can have us, but only on loan and never for long.

Comments

  1. The sound of cranes as they fly over is wonderful. At Lac du Der in France, you can stand in early November and listen as chevron after chevron fly out to feed in the fields at sunrise, and then listen again as they all fly back at sunset to spend the night at the lake. They are common cranes, not crowned, but I can’t think of any cranes as common – to me they are all special and time spent at Lac du Der is magical. Thank you for reminding me with your blog.

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  3. Such wonderful word pictures you draw! I have done a bit of camping in the wild myself —-Okavango; Namibia and Zimbabwe…..alas getting a bit old and creaky for such shenanigans now – so your postings are received with huge delight….. as was your ’10 000 000 Aliens’ – just wish I could remember one millionth of the fascinating info contained therein…..THANK YOU, Jen Ferguson.

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  4. Such wonderful word pictures you draw! I have done a bit of camping in the wild myself —-Okavango; Namibia and Zimbabwe…..alas getting a bit old and creaky for such shenanigans now – so your postings are received with huge delight….. as was your ’10 000 000 Aliens’ – just wish I could remember one millionth of the fascinating info contained therein…..THANK YOU, Jen Ferguson.

    Reply

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  6. Not this, but last, year, we went to the Huleh Valley and Lake in Israel during the Crane season. Thousands of them, wintering in the valley, their numbers having increased since the civil war broke out just over the other side of the Golan Heights. Forever moving, shifting, rising up, then settling again. They are fed by the local nature organisation so that they won’t raid the farmers’ fields surrounding them. I suspect that that it’s not the food that attracts them (although it probably helps!), but the lack of people trying to kill each other and, accidentally, killing them. If you listen carefully, you can, sadly, hear, every so often, the sound of gunfire from just over there.

    But the cranes, pelicans, spoonbills, ducks, geese, etc, co-exist with the Black Kites, almost ignoring them, because the latter are carrion eaters: stay alive, and get ignored.

    Oh, and they ignore us, too. Except to display their magnificence.

    And as a memory, I was bought that wonderful T-shirt of dancing Cranes, to wear every 9th visit to the gym!

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