The Call of the Sandhill Cranes

Did you see them the other day at about 2:30 PM, the hundreds of birds in and out of formation, flying over Dunwoody? You may have thought they were geese, but if you had a neighbor like Alan of the Appalachian Trail, like I do, and if you walked out to check the mail and ran into Alan raking at precisely the moment the birds were flying overhead, you would have discovered that they are actually sandhill cranes, and you would have stood and craned your neck upward watching them with him and listening to their most-definitely-not-geese warble as it grew louder until it overtook the skies as they flew by.

You may have even seen them moments later, as my friend Richard of the Worms did, when they dropped out of formation into an odd circle, as if they were having an impromptu meeting to double-check the directions to Florida. And then you may have Googled sandhill cranes, as Richard and I did, obsessive researchers that we are, and discovered that during migration they dip down into these circles to check the winds in search of a good thermal heading the direction in which they are going (which, for now, is south).

And, intrigued by all this, you may have gotten to thinking about thermals and energy and putting the power of nature to work for you, as I did, and you may have even found yourself late last night reading through the government strategic policy report from Alachua County, Florida (where Gainseville is), over which the sandhill cranes may have flown yesterday (the video above shows them leaving Gainseville this past February for their northern migration). And you may have discovered that in Alachua County, the government is fully embracing the challenges and opportunities of:

* Enery, water, business development, and conservation
* Waste
* Local food production and processing
* Land use and transportation
* Legislative items related to sustainability
* And even ways to invite and engage the public

And you may have logged off, and nodded off, and dreamed about a similar document right here in Dunwoody, while hearing the fading call of the sandhill cranes in your not-too-distant memory.