stretch of the Platte, and drawing bird-watchers from around the world.
    Upon first look, they appear awkward, even goofy as they pick about the cornrows, their round, grey bodies bobbing about atop black-stick legs, their heron-like necks darting toward the ground, intent upon fattening up for the journey to Canada, Alaska and as far away as Siberia.  Their concentration is interrupted periodically by a bouncy, wing-spreading dance.  But the perception of awkwardness disappeared when I saw them, an hour before sunset, in V formations breaking off into strings of black pearl against a reddening sky, winter-bare trees studies in black ink in the distance, cornrows accented in snow running to the edges of my vision.  Now they seemed like musical notes across a heavenly staff. 
    The next morning, an hour before first light, I joined a group heading for a blind at the National Audubon Society's Lillian Annette Rowe Sanctuary (http://www.rowesanctuary.org), in Gibbon not far from Kearney, where I had taken a room at the Ramada.  A wet snow was falling as we trekked quietly across a field, following a leader who had given us very strict instructions prohibiting loud talking, flash photos etc.  Fumbling about in the dark, inside the blind, we set up tripods, attached cameras and long lenses, opened the slots in the walls and watched as the light brightened upon a scene that was almost primeval.  As far as the eye could see, to the left and right, cranes stood in the shallows of the Platte, a river of tributaries, braided by sandbars, which are ideal for the cranes to roost.  The six-to-twelve inches of water they favor alerts them to any predators splashing in their direction.  As they began their jerky pre-takeoff runs, then took to the air, we snapped away with our cameras. Kearney (http://www.ci.kearney.ne.us) is one of two towns that fill up during crane season.  The other is Grand Island, about 40 miles to the east.
    "The sight of the cranes is simply awesome when they lift off the river," says Renee Seifert, executive director of the Grand Island/Hall County Convention & Visitors Bureau (http://www.visitgrandisland.com), which along with other CVBs in the area, promote the migratory period with wildlife-viewing tours, seminars, lectures, etc. 
    Along with the cranes, some 10 million ducks and geese descend upon the area, including more than 2 million snow geese.  It's the greatest avian show many visitors will ever see - and there is a repeat performance every year.  Numbers alone, however, do not tell the full story. 
    After a trucker-sized breakfast at Grandma Max's (voted America's No.1 truck stop diner) and a discussion of the poetry of the prairie with Trish Beem of the Grand Island CVB, we went with Eric Volden, the resident naturalist at the Crane Meadows Nature Center, to look for a "whooper."  We found one in a field near the small town of Alda.  The stark white plumage and sheer size of a whooping crane makes it fairly easy to spot among its sandhill cousins.  Sighting a whooper is a bit of an event, given that there are less than 200 left in the wild. 
    Protection of the whooping cranes was the subject of a successful lawsuit some years back and the multi-million-dollar settlement led to the formation of the Platte River Whooping Crane Maintenance Trust (http://www.whoopingcrane.org), which now oversees thousands of acres on and around the river.  Director Paul Currier and his staff are involved in numerous habitat research projects, many of which have resulted in action programs, all designed to maintain or improve the chances of wildlife survival in the area. 
    "Education and conservation efforts have increased awareness of the cranes and river and have helped to protect and restore more than 14,000 acres," Currier says. "Habitat management has included grazing, haying and crop production through ar

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