I

You seem to arrive each spring with the cranes

appearing suddenly at the moment April begins to feel like the longest month;

at the beginning

My discovery of the migratory patterns of Sandhill Cranes was coeval with my discovery of women

   How strange—to spend decades oblivious to patterns of movement, of color

Unaware of my own ignorance

   Blissful discovery

     Heavy knowledge—both women and cranes leave

II

In the bar I refill his glass of Sandhill Red

He draws a deep draught, turns to the person next to him, “we used to be able to hunt the cranes”

   Long sip

“Then the nature conservancy came in and ruined that too.”

   Deep sip

“Now we can’t shoot them at all. They just come in and eat all the wheat, bastards.”

   Long pull

“They taste like the best turkey. Better than turkey, like brisket, like steak. The rib-eye of the fucking sky!”

III

We all know how this happened.

At the end of the Cretateous some 66 mya the dinosaurs were rendered extinct

We learned as children that birds are the descendants of dinosaurs

I didn’t see a crane until after college

Sandhill Cranes have been doing their mating dance for nearly 9 million years—3 times as long as their nearest bird relative, small wonder they resemble their reptilian ancestors so much

There are many subspecies of crane

There is one species of human – homo sapiens

We have been doing this mating dance for nearly 2 million years

We have consumed the entire world and remain insatiable

Why do we hurt each other?

IV

In the clear hindsight of the Anthropocene ecologists call what once was – the American Serengeti – while fighting to preserve this modern sagebrush sea that I have come to love

The cranes have chosen this former abundance, this shadow of the marshes they belong to – which we see no use

for

   they have yet to turn into oil

We bully them into farmland instead and if the birds are lucky the nature conservancy gets a slice where they can safely feed on their long journeys

and yet,

the map is not the territory; territory is a matter of acquaintance not ownership

In this constant choosing between person or place the cranes have discovered how to have it all

   mating for life and migrating between places

Won’t you come home?