Recently, the Maine-Birding listserve I subscribe to has been filled with reports of returning migrants, glad tidings of FOY (first of the year) sightings of killdeer, kestrels, and song sparrows, to name a few.

However, one post by Jeff Wells stood out in my mind. First, because the sighting was of an unusual bird for Maine; second, the description just fired my imagination and sense of wonder.

“Coming out of the barbershop in Hallowell this morning,” Wells wrote, “Allison and Evan and I looked up to see four very high flying sandhill cranes heading north. We grabbed the binoculars from the car and watched them [until] they disappeared from view.”

The mystery of bird migration never fails to captivate me, and the mental picture of these prehistoric-seeming birds flying high up in the atmosphere on their migratory route thrilled me. I compared it to the feeling I get when I see long skeins of geese threading across the sky in the fall, traveling south for the winter. It’s a siren song that never fails to awaken similar stirrings in the human heart: a desire for change, travel, and adventure.

The actual migration of most birds is either invisible or unbeknownst to us; one day they just simply appear or disappear, as if by magic. Large birds, which migrate during the day to take advantage of the more turbulent air and the added lift it supplies, are more conspicuous in their travels. We get a chance to observe their passage for a very short time, wonder about them, and yearn to be less stationary than we have to be.

The sandhill cranes Wells and his family observed had most likely left their wintering grounds in Florida and around the Gulf Coast to seek out their breeding territory, which extends throughout much of Canada and into Alaska. There are also smaller breeding territories in the West and Midwest United States, as well as a small year-round population of cranes in Florida, Mississippi, and Georgia.

Although not quite as eye-catching (or endangered) as whooping cranes, sandhill cranes have an understated beauty and elegance. Whereas the whooping crane is startlingly white, the sandhill crane is a uniform, soft gray with a red crown, a black eye stripe, and a white cheek. Their thickset bodies, reminiscent of an ostrich’s, are offset by a very long neck and legs. According to the “Birds of North America” species account, they are among the oldest living birds and one of only two species of crane that are native to America.

Sandhill cranes utilize grasslands and wetlands for nesting sites. They do not breed until they are between two and seven years old, and typically raise only one young to fledging. Young cranes are able to leave the nest within 24 hours after hatching, after which they are cared for intensively by both parents, remaining with them until they are 9 or 10 months old. Mated pairs are monogamous and the birds may live up to 20 years or more.

Each year in Maine there are a handful of sandhill crane sightings, but whether they are breeding in the state remains a question. During previous years, sightings have been reported in Bangor, Belgrade, Scarborough, Biddeford, Smithfield, and Leeds. The cranes have most often been seen in open fields or at lake margins. On the evening of Jeff Well’s view of four passing overhead, one crane was spotted on Messalonskee Lake in Oakland.

A sandhill crane in flight is a different subject altogether than one that is earthbound. They are reported to have a distinctive flying style, with a snappy upstroke and a slower, heavy downstroke to their wingbeats. The overall impression must be one of grace and majesty, and I imagine Wells must have thought so, too.

“It was a wonderful thing to see and still leaves a lasting impression in my mind,” he wrote.

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The early sping cold and snowcover may be having a tremendous impact on many early spring migrants. Please contact me if you see food-stressed or cold- stressed birds or find any dead birds.

BDN bird columnist Chris Corio can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net