We arrived at Bosque as the last rays of light colored the fields and trees in a rich warm glow. You could hear the approaching cacophony of sounds echoing across the valley. Flights of geese and cranes soared above, then settled in various ponds for the night.In the cold chill of the early morning we watched and waited as the sun broke the horizon and the lift-off of masses of birds began again.
"I saw them first many Novembers ago and heard their triumphant trumpet calls, a hundred or more sandhill cranes riding south on a thermal above the Rio Grande Valley, and that day their effortless flight and their brassy music got into my soul." .... Charles Kuralt

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