The Sandhill Cranes 



attained their highest development since the advent of the hungry whites: 

 so that a study of these birds is no longer to be classed as natural history, 

 but only as morbid psychology. Dr. Newberry's testimony, 1 unfortun- 

 ately brief, deserves exact quotation : 



"In August we frequently saw them about the Klamath Lakes, and 

 early in September, while in the Cascade Mountains, in Oregon, the cranes 

 were a constant feature of the scenery of the beautiful but lonely mountain 

 meadows in which we camped. We found them always exceedingly shy 

 and difficult of approach, but not infrequently the files of their tall forms 

 stretching above the tall grass, or their discordant and far-sounding 

 screams, suggested the presence of the human inhabitants of the region, 

 whose territory was now, for the first time, invaded by the white man. 

 The cranes nest on these alpine meadows, and retreat to the milder climate 

 of the valleys of California in winter." 



In watching against enemies the crane makes the most of his com- 

 manding height; but since he must stoop occasionally to the ground to 

 feed, he requires to be further protected by a surrounding of level stretches 

 in which no possible foe might lurk. In winter the cranes show a marked 

 predilection for islands or river bars. Here, although vigilance may be 

 safely relaxed by the majority, there are always sentinels kept at lookout. 



The approach of an enemy is marked by a sonorous challenge, — a 

 mellow, penetrating, powerful note, which seems to hark from the elder 

 Eocene. If this warning is not respected, the bird makes a quick run and 

 springs into the air with a prodigious flapping, which presently smooths 

 out into rhythmical flight, with neck and legs outstretched to the utmost. 

 Meanwhile the bird is blowing his bugle frantically, and if many birds are 

 at it, the syncopated chorus which ensues is one of the most impressive in 

 Nature's oratorio. 



In the spring these gracefully ungainly birds indulge in curious antics 

 of courtship. The male bows with outstretched wings and nearly touches 

 the ground with his beak in the extremity of his devotion. The female 

 returns the bow with respect quite as profound, and then they indulge an 

 absurd minuet, swaying, dancing, leaping, and executing high kicks with 

 an entrancing degree of awkwardness. There is no privacy about this 

 phase of courtship, and twenty birds at once may join the giddy whirl 

 which seals the fate of so many young hearts. 



A crane's nest is little more than a shakedown, a depression in the 

 soil, or herbage, lined carelessly, or not, with grasses. In placing it the 

 crane takes advantage of some slight eminence, so that she may sweep the 

 landscape with a restless eye, and sneak off laboriously at the slightest 



1 Rep. Pac. R. R. Survey (1857)- 



I 5 28 



