I guess since I mentioned it I might as well give a "duck and cover" salute to the annual migration of Sandhill Cranes that converge upon de Isla each spring. These long-legged throwbacks to pterodactyls...numbering in the tens...if not hundreds to thousands...arrive each spring around the end of February and first week of March to stage their flight to Siberia where who knows what they do when they get there? They spend about 6 weeks chowing down in area fields nearly doubling their body weight for the long flight north. They are a treat for tourists from near and far. School kids learn about the birds and their long journey and love them almost as much as the local Chamber of Commerci. Of course what they fail to tell the children is these ugly fowl foul the soil and groundwater while they are here...while guaranteeing that most farmsteads are heavily invested in Culligan reverse osmosis machines...and ensuring that local roads are filled with scatter-brained tourists pretending to be on their first clueless drivers training excursion on a country road...all while burning up carbon credits that the guano birds try so hard to restore.
If we want to really turn this into a capital raising endeavor I say we offer a 6 week crane season like the states to our south. That's where the money is. Hunting. Blinds up and down the Platte River filled to the brim with hunters hoping to limit out before they lift off the former mile-wide and foot-deep river. I even have a few slogans that might help the local economy. "From the Platte to Your Plate...Crane Tastes Great!" or "Crane...The Other Dark Meat." I have others.
That about sums it up for me. I remember as a youth being able to walk almost close enough to touch them. Now with "commercial involvement" you can't get within a quarter mile of these feathered dinosaurs.
7 comments:
One Out, Remember when they found a crane nailed to a post? I always maintain there were two pee-holes in the snow, a couple of empty Ol Mils, and one empty 22 round. Last thing said, "Damn, Bubba, I didn't think you could reach out and touch him from here!" As I recall, they brought in enough Federalis to reconstruct the Kennedy assassination. The local shootings and stabbings barely make the local news, anymore.
Just had a fellah in the office who had shot cranes down south. He said they tasted good, and were referred to as a "rib eye in the sky!"
GASP!!! Blasphemy ... sacrilege ... profanation ... apostasy ....
How dare thee besmirch the Sacred Sandhill Crane, blessed bird of honor and bringer of bounty to the Midlands?
... not to mention befouler of field and stream (cranes poop like they're about a month behind on their fertilizer orders). Why would anyone hunt the things? My experience is considerably different than Pip's. Ever eat one? I'd rather eat my shoe. We call 'em Sky Carp.
Sadly, those of us of true vision are forced to voice our opinions anonymously, lest the Crane Police descend in fury on us. The whole crane kerfuffle is one of the biggest scams ever foisted off on heartlanders. No wonder people think we're yokels.
Amen brutha!
Eat my shoe? Dammit Unk, I'm still laughing. Even drew a tear. I suppose you'd never join me for a latte and coot croissant?
Pip:
I'm not nearly this lovable in person ....
UW
Unc...
I always thought Wiggily bordered on the crusty side. He may be a rabbit but he's been shot at enough to know his way around.
Wasn't it that old philosopher Elvis that said...
"You ain't caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine."
I've been out to see them a couple of times over the years. I can see how it would be tiresome to have us outlanders milling about, though.
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