Whoopers put on a show

After a long, hot summer and early fall in which I had little time or energy with which to pursue many activities outside of the necessities, in the last few weeks, fall has finally begun in south central Texas. With the belated arrival of cool air, I feel again the compelling urge to get outside and see the sensational sights that nature has to provide. And that, of course, includes getting back to watching birds.

So, a few weeks ago, the B and B team travelled three hours down the road to the central Texas coast, to the Rockport-Fulton area, a renowned birding hotspot north of Corpus Christi. The quality and ease of bird watching there are indeed impressive, even for relative novices like ourselves. Our only previous trip to that area, four years ago, had been the inspiration for us to purchase ourselves a nice pair of binoculars at long last. It pushed us over the edge to being committed, if part-time, birders.

This time, alas, we did not have much time to spend—it was a mere overnight trip. But, by luck and circumstance, we found, and were able to splurge on, a very special place to stay. A place that was to give us the opportunity to view whooping cranes for the first time—and not just any viewing opportunity, but an up-close and personal one.

For those who may not be familiar with them, whooping cranes are very tall, very endangered birds. Fifty years ago there were less than two dozen of them left in the wild, all in a single flock that migrated from Wood Buffalo National Park in the wilds of northwestern Canada to a small peninsula on the central Texas coast northeast of Rockport—an area that had been preserved in the 1930s as the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge. Fortunately, thanks to the long, hard work of many, whooping cranes are recovering well—there are now over 200 cranes in the Aransas flock. Unfortunately, the Aransas flock is still the only established flock, so the birds remain vulnerable to a single catastrophic event. To guard against this, wildlife biologists and others are experimenting with establishing additional flocks: one non-migratory one in central Florida and one migratory one between Wisconsin and Florida.

The vacation house we rented for that night is located on a ranch near some coastal wetlands, a portion of which the owners had recently donated to the Nature Conservancy. The ranch is across a narrow inlet from the peninsula where the vast majority of the Aransas Refuge is located and where the wild flock of whooping cranes spend their winters, each family occupying roughly a square mile. A family of whooping cranes had shown up virtually on the front door of this house in past winters, to eat the corn that had originally been put out to feed white-tailed deer.

Having never seen a whooping crane—for that matter, having never seen any other type of crane before—we didn't know what to expect. Would they be immediately obvious or not? Our previous visit to Aransas had been in early October—too early to see whoopers. Now, we were visiting in mid-November, when about half the cranes would have arrived at their wintering grounds, but half would still be in transit. With great timing for us, the pair of cranes that claim the territory around this house showed up two days before our trip.

Our arrival was only a couple hours past, when, as we were returning to the house from a short excursion to spot ducks and other water birds along the coastal wetlands, we saw two huge white birds, with black wing tips, swooping in for a landing on the road, just fifty feet or so in front of the house. No field guides were needed for this identification! Alas, the cranes were quicker than us, for we had not yet put out the deer corn as the proprietor had suggested. So the whoopers promptly took off again and headed the short distance back towards the bay.

Taking our cue, we spread a bucket of the corn along the road, then went out again to look for birds in the coastal marshes, identifying several species that we had never before (such as sandhill cranes, green-winged teals, and pied-billed grebes) as well as numerous old favorites (such as great egrets, little blue herons, and some "Mexican eagles", crested caracaras). We even found the pair of whooping cranes, one of which was masking its height by sitting down in a dry, bare spot amidst the grasses—perhaps resting from its recent journey from northern Canada.

While we were out, we noticed the whoopers fly low towards the house at least two more times, but not landing either time—instead circling around and then heading back towards where they had been resting earlier. When we returned to the house, we realized why—the two horses living on the ranch were in the road taking their fill of the deer corn.

Eventually, the horses moved on, and a herd of deer and a family of three sandhill cranes—two adults and one juvenile—decided to take over the feeding spot. We settled down in the screened-in porch, a few dozen feet away, to watch. Sandhill cranes were a new species for us as well. They are duskier-colored and shorter than whoopers, though not exactly small themselves.

Before long, the whoopers swooped in again, with their long wingspans dwarfing the small shrubs near the road and attracting the attention of the feeding deer and sandhills. They landed and started moving in towards the feeding area, walking slowly but steadily along the road. As they did, the sandhill cranes retreated, as did most of the deer. The few deer who stubbornly continued feeding soon found themselves being charged, pecked at, and honked at repeatedly by two very large, very loud birds. Needless to say, these stubborn deer didn't stick around for long.

And so we watched quietly for the next hour from inside our comfortable blind, as the two whoopers took turns eating and keeping lookout, trumpeting loudly with their namesake "whoops" whenever any impatient deer tried to sneak back onto the road.

As the sun neared the horizon behind us, the whoopers suddenly faced east together, gracefully lofted themselves into the air, and headed towards the marshes. The three sandhill cranes, who had been waiting patiently a distance away, moved back in to eat. They stayed until well after sunset, kept up late by their deference to their larger cousins. And then they, too, flew off quietly into the approaching night.

Comments

[Gwyn]

I was privileged to watch the flight training in Wisconsin last August of the eastern flock. Incredible birds, aren't they? You got to see the "wild" ones, too.

But I find it amazing you hadn't seen any cranes till now. Sandhills are very common around here!

[Peter]

Very cool to have seen the flight training in person. Have you written about that at your blog?

Yes, no cranes for me until last month. I've been birding for several years now, but almost exclusively near home, in central Texas. That's my excuse. I don't feel too bad, since (as I just checked) our county's checklist shows Sandhill Cranes as only "occasional" in fall, winter, and spring, and "accidental" in summer.

[Gwyn]

Peter, Yes, I did do a blog entry about the flight training. Probably one of the highlights of my 2005 birding. That refuge is only about an hour from where I live.
http://birdbrainedstories.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_birdbrainedstories_archive.html

If you go to read it, check out my most recent entry, too. It was actually inspired by your comment about the Sandhills!

[Judy Palladinetti]

Wow all I can say is wow about your incredible evening with the whooping cranes. Any chance you can pass along the address for the rental house??? We will be in Corpus Christi in January 2007. We'd love to stay there!!! Thank you, Judy

[Peter]

Judy, I just sent you an email with the name and web site of the rental house. Remembering back on this, a year later, and how magical and unique it was, I'm surprised that you're the first to ask for the name of the place.