http://www.operationmigration.org/operation-migration-team-members.asp
The
pen door was opened by one of the two costume-clad crew members located inside
the pen. On cue, one by one, six young, backpackless, female Whooping Cranes
began nonchalantly sauntering out of the pen to greet the ultralight. Within
seconds, Richard revved up the ultralight engine and proceeded to roll, accelerating
faster and faster back up the strip of close-cut grass. Five of the cranes had
immediately started to accompany the ultralight, and one had hesitated a noticeable
moment before following suit. Despite (or perhaps because of) that fleeting
moment of angst, the sight of six pair of long legs running and six pair of big
white flapping wings in pursuit of the speeding ultralight was exhilarating to
my soul. In the next instant, my spirit experienced an uplifting thrill upon
seeing that Richard and all six of the cranes were in the air. The takeoff time
was 7:53.
The
crane that had hesitated: she lagged a bit behind the rest, but soon caught up
insomuch as—to my relief—I was eventually able to count six cranes flying
behind the ultralight.
I
watched Richard lead the cranes, at a relatively low altitude, in what seemed
to be a couple of wide circles around the pen area. At one point during the
circling, the Operation Migration logo came to mind. The why-of-course-it-would
realization of what had just happened to me brought the flex of a smile to my
cheeks. At another point during the circling, the view of the ultralight being
followed by the birds appeared so surreal to me as to seem totally unreal: like
an oversized image of Santa Claus and his reindeer-pulled sleigh being
superimposed and crudely manipulated across a NOAA weather radar screen or Miss
Gulch riding her bike through the tornado in the Wizard of Oz. Oh, the things
that can run through a person’s mind when watching a man in a propeller-powered
glider flying through the air with six Whooping Cranes following as if he and
the contraption were one in the same and their parent.
My
indulgence in the fantastic came to an abrupt halt when I could only make out
five birds flying with the ultralight. Again to my relief, however, after a
couple of successive counts and a more intense focus on the scene, I was able
to discern that a sixth crane kept getting largely concealed by the right side
of the ultralight wing.
Subsequently,
the live cam operator started having trouble keeping up with Richard and the cranes.
The live cam operator lost them and found them a couple of times within a brief
period before completely losing track of them for an extended period. For
several minutes, the sound of the ultralight engine could be heard; however,
the live cam operator’s repeated three-hundred-sixty-degree sweeps failed to spot
the aircraft and birds. Eventually, the ultralight engine could not even be
heard, and one chatterer quipped that Richard had gone on migration.
After
several more minutes—and yet again to my relief—the sound of the engine could
be heard again. Then the actual sight of the ultralight came into view,
appearing ever so tiny in the distance. As
the ultralight drew closer and the live cam zoomed in, one could once again
count the birds in flight. One, two, three, four, five; one, two, three, four,
five: every recount turning out the same.
Richard—and
to my count—only five of the six cranes were coming in for a landing, and smoothly
touching down at approximately 8:13.
As
Richard—having exited the ultralight and donned his adult Whooping Crane puppet
head—began rewarding the five cranes with what I believe to be grapes, a few of
the chatters expressed concern over the missing crane. After several entries of
such concern, one chatterer bade us not to worry, proclaiming that the missing crane
was hiding “in the blind”. Rather unsure of what that meant, I continued to
watch with bated breath. I watched and
counted over and over as Richard—appearing to exhibit no other exigency—continued
to toss treats to the five cranes gathered around him and the ultralight.
Those
seven subjects—and only those seven subjects—were in the live cam picture until
the camera operator focused in on Richard pulling a treat out of his costume
pouch with his forearm and hand gloved in the puppet head. Then, a couple of seconds later, at approximately 8:21,
the camera operator pulled the camera’s focus back to the wider view, and, just
like that, the count of five cranes increased to a count of six cranes. Not
believing my own eyes, I recounted; and to my absolute and total delight, there
really were six cranes in the picture.
Shortly
thereafter, Richard re-entered the ultralight and began to slowly taxi further
down the strip, toward the pen. All six cranes followed the ultralight to an
area in front of the pen door. Richard once again disembarked from the
aircraft, one of the two costumed crew members swung open the pen door from
within, and the three disguised humans began coaxing the cranes back into the
pen with treats. The first three to re-enter the pen did so rather quickly and
willingly, although they did so one at a time, and while giving each other
plenty of space. Richard used a treat in the bill of his puppet head to lure in
the fourth crane, and it seemed that he only had to firmly directionally
gesture with the puppet head to get the fifth crane to re-enter. The last crane
didn’t give Richard much trouble, but she did seem to emit an air of some
attitude other than a willingness to cooperate. She wore what appeared to be a
red legband, which would make her #3-14.
At
approximately 8:28, with one crew member
having left the pen on foot, with all seven cranes (even the still sidelined
Peanut) visible in the pen, and with one crew member still in the pen, Richard
took off and flew out of sight.
