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). 
1528 
