Cranes are solitary creatures, the Zen masters of the animal kingdom; graceful, patient, steadfast, imperturbable. With reed-thin legs and long tapering necks, they exude an air of regal dignity as they stand stock-still for what can seem an eternity. Watching their slow deliberate strides as they wade through shallow waters can be almost trance inducing.
I was once lucky enough to spot one of these elegant birds standing in the shallows on the far side of the river. Mirroring its serene repose, I stood mesmerized, watching it for many minutes. My patience was rewarded when the motionless bird suddenly took three giant steps on its stilt-like legs then dove into the river. “Dove” may be putting too fine a point on what this bird actually did. In a chaotic splashing of water and clumsy flailing of wings, it flopped forward headfirst into the river, as if too top-heavy to do otherwise.
After much awkward splashing and flapping, it righted itself, a small fish caught wriggling in its beak.
With a few deft maneuvers of its long neck and a tilt of its head, it swallowed the fish down. After taking some dainty sips from the river to clear its palate, it stood erect, and resumed its usual air of dignity. Seeing it regain its customary reserve, I decided the awkward fishing incident must have been a one-time fluke, a mere slip of the foot.
I was clearly mistaken.
After standing motionless for some time, the crane abruptly took off across the shallows again, repeating its falling, flailing, splashing routine.
Rising victorious a second time, a flipping flapping flash of silver shone in its beak. With the same twitch of the head, stretch of the neck, gulp-and-its-gone, the bird took its finishing sip from the river then calmly resumed its watchful stance, equanimity restored.
While reflecting on the comical irony of the crane’s goofy fishing techniques, I noticed from the corner of my eye some slight movement in the brush along the bank directly behind the bird. My first thought was that it must be one of the deer that frequently graze on that side of the river. Scanning the distant thicket for some trace of wildlife, I spotted no deer nor further movement of any kind. Deciding that I must have been mistaken, I continued my watch, hoping for another funny fish-catching display.
Suddenly, without warning, the great bird spread its wings and flew off in an instant, sounding a raucous squawk as it disappeared far down the river.
As I looked across to the opposite bank, a large coyote emerged from the brush entering a clearing directly behind where the crane had once stood. Now out in the open and clearly visible near the riverbank, the coyote looked around confoundedly for its prize.
Finding nothing so much as a field mouse to dine on, it sauntered off morosely into the dense brush.
Crane gone, coyote gone, I too sauntered off, heading for home. Far from glum, I whistled a spritely tune, counting myself lucky for my own successful hunting that day.