The sandhill cranes are flying over our houses, heading south.
On these cold, clear, late-fall days, their presence is unmistakable. They fly high in the sky and it’s sometimes hard to see the V-shaped flocks of birds that have chosen our towns for the route of their autumn migration.
But you’ll always hear them.
Smaller groups – maybe a half dozen cranes – produce a squawking racket that can be heard for more than two…
