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March 9th 2010    Tim Candler

     Echelons of Sandhill Crane passing on their way North.  They have a call which is apparently required of them when flying.  I think of it as a conversation.

     In the Fall when I hear them, I convince myself they are happy to be here.   I hear in their call an equivalent to "look there he is, still here and his barn roof really needs paint"    And I stare up, I think about winter, knowing that functionally Sandhill Cranes are holidaying and looking forward to Florida.

    Then, at this time of year, I hear anxiety in their call.   They are drawn by Monday morning.  The vacation is over.   Their long journey is an uphill one because there is work to be done.   So they say goodbye with that "you'll probably not be here when we get back."

   I imagine it quite proper for a mind to develop a paranoia through self consciousness.   The social requires it and I say language does too.   But self consciousness in the presence of Sandhill Cranes more likely belongs to a region best not explored.  Otherwise I might start collecting Sandhill Crane trivia, follow them north and end up exiled.

    "What happened at the Constitutional Convention?"   The Constitution was written. 

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