Monte Vista Sunrise

The weather last Saturday when I was in Monte Vista for the 30th annual Crane Festival was uniformly overcast, with snow starting to fall in the afternoon. But the Sunday forecast called for clear skies, so I made sure to get up before sunrise and headed out hoping for some stunning photo conditions.

I wasn't disappointed.

My plan was to head back to the wildlife refuge.  But these brick ruins of what I assume were all that was left of a burned-down house called to me along the way.

By the time the sun had started to break over the horizon I'd found a nice place to set up on the edge of the refuge.

Trees, mountains, low fog, fresh snow and the rising sun.  A pretty solid combination to work with.

Silhouettes make me happy.

I forgot all about the cranes for a while, just enjoying how the beauty of the landscape continued to reveal itself as the sun climbed in the sky.

Is it greedy of me to wish there had been just a few clouds in the sky to add a little texture?

I think the temperature was 17 degrees when I left the hotel.  I share that in case you can't feel the cold just from looking at the pictures.

The color of the branches indicated that spring wasn't far off.  But the fresh snow coating them said that winter wasn't quite ready to yield just yet.  And I was glad that it hadn't.

Monte Vista Crane Festival 2013

I don't remember exactly how I found about it, or what possessed me to make the four-hour drive to be part of it. But this past Saturday I found myself shivering in the Monte Vista National Wildlife Refuge watching and listening to thousands of Greater Sandhill Cranes fatten up for their migration north. All part of the 30th annual Monte Vista Crane Festival.

I heard someone use the word "prehistoric" to describe the sound the cranes make.  It was sort of a cross between a turkey's gobble and a rusty hinge.  Not exactly songbirds.

Awkward and halting on the ground, the birds were downright elegant in the air.

With such a large group, isolating a single crane in a photo wasn't easy.  Fortunately this fellow -- or possibly lady -- obliged.

Ah, courtship rituals.  When do you not look ridiculous?  Even the Canada Goose was too embarrassed to watch.

This group seemed to be doing a thorough job keeping an eye out for trouble.

The birds seek out wetlands in which to roost at night, standing on one leg in shallow water like a flamingo.

Not cranes.   But the Canada Geese sure did think the cranes had found a good place to feed.

And to drink, apparently.

Also not a crane.  But this Great Horned Owl was in the same tree all day, not perturbed enough by the peeping humans to flush.  That's birder talk for "fly off."

I thought a Parks & Wildlife volunteer summed up the likely thoughts of the cranes on the ground when this ginormous flock of Canada Geese flew in nicely.  "Well, there goes the neighborhood."

I joined group tours three times on Saturday, and went out on my own Saturday afternoon and again Sunday morning.  I think I got my best shots when I was alone; but if I hadn't taken the group tours I wouldn't have known where the prime viewing locations were.

Being around real birders always makes me realize that I'm not one.  And that I'm OK with that.  Still, an enjoyable trip in the sense of something you don't often get the opportunity to do and see.  Maybe next year I'll head out to Nebraska to see the 500,000 Lesser Sandhill Cranes that return north through the Central Flyway instead for comparison!