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Last week, 20 young whooping cranes completed their first migration led by their mentors in flight, ultralight aircraft flown by pilots from Operation Migration. The 89-day, 1285-mile (km) journey started at the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge in Wisconsin and traversed seven states, until the cranes reached their destinations at the St. Marks and Chassahowitzka NWRs in Florida. Over nine years, Operation Migration has helped to rebuild a decimated whooping crane population, teaching cranes to fly and migrate; from there, the cranes’ instincts will take over. What a wonderful, even poetic, story…but it’s much more than that.
For someone watching a 30-second news segment on TV or reading the quick general interest article in the local paper (some coverage can be found here, here, and here), it’s easy to marvel at the dramatic images of an ultralight leading whooping cranes across the sky.
Now that the migration season is over, I read through the Field Journal on Operation Migration’s website. I highly recommend it. Three months of daily entries by Liz Condie and the OM pilots, staff and volunteers reveal a grander, more epic journey and a deeper, more complex relationship between the humans, the cranes, the wind, and the land.
The birdmen/birdwomen of Operation Migration
Adult cranes have 7-foot wingspans, which means they are built to ride thermals. But the pilots seem to have as much flight in their DNA as do the cranes. Tucked into their “trikes” (as the ultralights are called), they read, test, and prod the air, negotiating cold and cross-winds. Pilot and crane alike share an aversion to turbulence, also known as rough or “dirty” air.
One trike flies “lead,” the cranes riding the draft from the ultralight’s wing. Several other pilots wrangle the cranes, who straggle or choose their own course. This is especially true as the cranes are learning to fly. It’s like a cattle drive, in the air.
Another plane flies “top cover” like a guardian angel, keeping a watchful eye on the activities below and communicating with the trike pilots and ground staff.
It takes a flock
The flight is only part of the journey. In an effort to reestablish a migratory population, the Whooping Crane Eastern Partnership relies on a combination of nature and nurture, art and science.
Whooping crane chicks learn to eat and drink and to fly from their parents. Without adult cranes around, humans have stepped in to model the essential behaviors. Wildlife specialists at Patuxent Wildlife Research Center raise and hatch the eggs. Using crane puppets, staff teach the chicks to eat. After being moved to Necedah NWR, the “cranelets” continue to learn the basics of foraging and flight. The cranes never interact directly with humans. Even the pilots wear crane costumes.
Once the migration begins, the trikes lead in the sky, but a mobile village follows along with every stopover. Staff from Patuxent travel along with the OM tracking van in two week shifts. Like any road show, the progress involves an extensive “operation” with logistical issues: transporting and setting up travel pens for the cranes, generators, five campers; hosting official “flyovers” for the public and media; and feeding and caring for the cranes and the people.
A line is a series of points
While the migration does connect point A and point B, the journey is less a line than a series of skips across and above the landscape. Operation Migration has to plan for staging areas, including spaces for landing and takeoff, along the route.
During this era of globalization and talk of the world being flat, Operation Migration reminds us that places do not exist in isolation. They are also waypoints for long-distance travel that has been going on for millenia. A migration (and the winds) connects places and landscapes. Habitat conservation is critical at the wintering areas of the National Wildlife Refuges, but also along the length and breadth of migration corridor, in backyards, on farms, around cities.
How’s the weather? Go ask it
Every day, the staff and especially the pilots look to the weather to see whether it will cooperate. Poor winds (too light, too strong), cold, and rain limited flying time. During the official 89 days of the migration, only 24 days produced any major progress. That’s a lot of waiting.
When you live as closely with the winds as do the pilots, when progress relies upon good weather, perhaps it’s not surprising that the staff develop a very personal relationship with the weather. Everyone wants to fly; noone likes the propane heat running out at night. Like mariners and the sea, the staff end up anthropomorphizing “Old Man Weather” — and the equipment.
Weather was certainly the mundane constant and the critical factor throughout the field notes. This was a welcomed reminder. While we all live with weather day in and day out, most of our lives in urban and suburban places rarely rely so significantly on how the Old Man is feeling.
It’s a risky business
During the 2009 migration, the journey involves many hours in the air under difficult conditions for the pilots. Engines fail, fuel lines freeze. One trike’s engine failed. The plane flying top cover lost power and had to make an emergency landing in a field, flipping over in the process. Even the motorhome suffered from engine failure. The staff, especially the pilots, are truly a brave bunch.
Two sad side notes also involve human behavior. While the staff was out on the road, their OM headquarters in Necedah were ransacked and vandalized. And even more tragically, perhaps the most important adult in the Eastern Migratory Population, a female crane who had taught its offspring to migrate, was shot and killed in Indiana.
Once the cranes arrive in Florida, they have, in a sense, come of age. But many dangers — predators, food scarcity, weather — will continue to threaten the cranes. The entire class of 2006 (18 cranes) was killed by tornadoes that hit Florida in 2007. Extreme weather events are projected to increase with climate change; habitat destruction will continue. Even today, food scarcity threatens the only naturally-occurring whooping crane population, now wintering in Aransas NWR in Texas. Rebuilding a robust eastern migratory population is a long-term commitment.
Seeing like a bird
Operation Migration’s CraneCam and TrikeCam (mounted on the ultralight) provided virtual followers with powerful images of the migration. During the course of the migration, I checked in periodically on OM’s website and their Twitter feed. But I never caught the “live in-flight video” (a bit different from a movie inside an airplane). You can be sure I’ll be paying more attention next year. For now, you can find some wonderful photos on Flickr and videos on YouTube.
The staff and pilots slowly get to know the cranes as a group and as individuals (each numbered as part of the Eastern Migratory Population), learning their personalities and preferences.
Liz Condie wrote: “I think this year’s bunch have some devilment in them,” after some mischievous overturning of equipment by the cranes. (December 26)
Richard van Heuvelen on January 8:
904 led most of the first leg before 906 took over. Once in a while a group of seven or eight birds would drop off at the end of the line. Pushing the bar out we would slow down to let them catch up and they would soon be back with us. On one occasion a lone bird broke out from the back of the line and out of the slipstream. It charged ahead past all of the other birds, and butted in front of 906 who had been flying erratically, diving below the wing, and leading the rest of the birds with it. I guess 905 disliked this behavior, as it made the birds at the back of the line work harder, and decided to take the lead away from 906.
Joe Duff on January 12:
In past years many of the birds would break off and persuade others to join them. In fact number 827 developed a habit of leaving the flock within minutes of the start of every flight. He would fall behind knowing that one of us would give chase and he would have the benefit of an aircraft all to himself for the remainder of the trip.
Seeing like a parent or caregiver
Following the entire journey from Wisconsin to Florida, I get a sense of the stewardship represented by all the staff and volunteers of Operation Migration. They devote their care and attention to these cranelets in the hope that after this first migration, instinct will kick in and the cranes will thrive independently as adults. As an adoptive parent, I feel (perhaps a little inaccurately) a certain kinship to the crew of Operation Migration.
In truth, I think it’s something that anyone can connect with. Images from the flyovers capture the emotional reactions from spectators. They are not simply seeing a beautiful bird, but getting a glimpse of the relationships between the crane and its changing world and the generosity and compassion of dedicated people.
It’s also a wonderful journey to be shared. Besides visiting Operation Migration’s website, you can check out two educational websites, Journey North and “Three White Cranes, Two Flyways, One World,” which track the whooping crane as an introduction to migration and conservation for school classes.
I read the Field Notes with joy and wonder — and now consider myself one of the many “Craniacs” out there. I’ll definitely be watching next year.
PS: Operation Migration takes donations.
Flickr images courtesy of Operation Migration (CC)
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