The Magic and Majesty of Hiwassee’s Sandhill Cranes
Image: A quintet of sandhill cranes take to the sky at sunset.
Trying to find Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge is not an easy task.
By the time we passed by Knoxville, Tennessee, the suburbs quickly faded into scattered plots of human activity, separated by miles and miles of backroads, forests, and tributaries. Dayton, a small mountain town, was the closest to the refuge, a large 6000 acre tract that predominantly encompasses the Hiwassee River. Most of the refuge is closed for the winter season, the only exception being a single viewing platform. With a little help from Google, we were guided along a two-lane road snaking through rolling fields of cattle and corn. As we did so, a distant V formation of a dozen or so birds gliding across the evening sky amplified our excitement.
Finally, the pavement gave way to gravel, and a small welcoming sign was the only indication that we were, in fact, in the right place. The hardwood forest dismantled into an open cornfield, complete with a big red barn and rusty silo. Hundreds of lanky gray birds littered the landscape, which overlooked the mudflats of Chickamauga Lake at the confluence of the Hiwassee and Tennessee rivers.
This is the winter home of the sandhill crane (Grus canadensis). Well, a population of them, at least!
Image: A trio of sandhill cranes, standing in the agricultural fields full of corn, wheat, and millet.
Image: A close-up of a sandhill crane.
The four-foot-tall sandhill crane is perhaps one of North America’s most charismatic birds. With a sweeping six foot wingspan, they rely on tail winds and rising thermal columns to carry them south as winter sets in. The Hiwassee population breeds and nests in Wisconsin, but they rely on the bountiful agriculture of the refuge (originally planted by the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency for migrating waterfowl) to hold them over from mid-October through February. Interestingly, this makes them one of the only crane populations to overwinter in one location, and the resources are so abundant that it has attracted the second largest flock in the southeastern United States (~29,000 individual cranes).
While at the refuge, they feed on plentiful crops - corn, wheat, and millet - alongside a supplemental diet of crustaceans from the sandbars of the Hiwassee and the occasional unlucky rodent. To my surprise, we observed the latter a few times, especially with juveniles; one would prance around with a vole or rat in its beak, only to be followed by a posse of other juveniles who wanted the delicacy for themselves. Adults, distinguished by their red crown, were more than happy to stick with a predominantly vegetarian menu.
But what people know sandhill cranes for the most is their haunting calls, sometimes called “bugles,” that could be heard for miles around the refuge. Once arriving at the viewing platform, there was never a quiet moment. Coos and shrills surround you on all sides as the cranes fly overhead in seemingly endless waves. It’s almost a prehistoric sound, shaped by 2.5 million years of evolution. Their long tracheas wrap around their sternum, a built-in amplifier that allows for lower pitch and enriching chords. The resulting orchestra creates an unforgettable symphony unlike anything else in the animal kingdom.
Video: The call of the sandhill cranes, one of the most unforgettable sounds in the animal kingdom.
Image: A sandhill crane pair flying overhead just a few minutes before sunset.
Image: A sandhill crane soaring over the Hiwassee River. The light extenuates the power of this bird’s wings.
Image: A sandhill crane standing tall and proud.
With at least 5,000 cranes surrounding us from both sky and earth, every second was exhilarating and, at times, overwhelming. It is difficult to imagine the beauty and power of these birds until their shadows fall over you, one after another, their trumpets loud enough to reverberate through the ground under your feet.
As the evening dipped into twilight, the cranes grew antsy. They do not roost at the observation deck, instead preferring to spend their night at Hiwassee Island in the middle of the river. The sky burst into a fiery canvas of orange and gold as the sun descended below the distant horizon, a silent signal.
In the hundreds the cranes took to the sky, their wingbeats and bugles as thunderous as a packed football stadium.
Image: Groups of sandhill cranes taking to the sky as the sun sets. They often flew in groups of two - a dozen!
Image: A quartet of sandhills against the oranges and yellows of sunset.
Image: A lone sandhill at sunset.
Image: A flock of sandhills nearly flying against the sun.
It was in that moment, as we gawked at the incredible scene before us, that I was reminded of how close we came to losing this species forever.
Sandhill crane populations had been decimated by 1916. The millinery industry sought after crane feathers to add an extravagant flair to their hats and were especially devastating. In addition to overhunting, key crane habitats like marshes and wetlands around the nation were being drained to make way for farmland. By 1925, the eastern population had been reduced to only 50 individuals.
The Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 (MBTA) was a saving grace not only for the sandhill crane, but for over 800 other species of birds, including mourning doves, mallards, wood ducks, snowy egrets, and more! In fact, this is one of the oldest examples of wildlife conservation legislation in the United States, and it continues to protect hundreds of bird species today.
Thanks to the MBTA and the unrelenting effort of conservationists, the sandhill crane is now the most numerous crane species in the world with a population of ~650,000. The eastern population, which includes those who reside at Hiwassee, numbers at 107,140 (as of a 2022 survey).
Image: A lone sandhill glides over Hiwassee against a backdrop of the Appalachian mountains.
Image: A sandhill crane trio coming in for a landing.
We left the refuge that night with cranes on the mind, eager to get back out there early the next morning. We loaded up before dawn, running solely on excitement and a little bit of caffeine.
Just as we pulled into the parking lot, the cranes were arriving by the dozens. Wave after wave of V formations dappled the morning sky, announcing their presence with drumming calls. They glided down into the cornfields and mudflats, ready for another day of feasting. Though the previous evening hadn’t been as busy as we expected, there were only a handful of us brave enough to face the chilly pre-dawn temperatures. In other words, it was just us and the cranes, in all of their elegance and splendor.
Image: A group of cranes flying in early Sunday morning.
As the sun rose and the temperatures finally warmed, we were treated to a group of cranes who decided to forage only 20 yards or so from the observation deck. With their long beaks they prodded through the leaf litter and the earth, scrounging up invertebrates, tubers, and whatever else they could find. I was especially fond of one pair, who had flown in together and stuck by each other’s side as they rummaged around. As a monogamous species, sandhill crane pairs mate for life. To reinforce their bond, couples will dance and serenade one another in a specialized routine known as “unison calling.” With their wings outstretched and heads thrown back, they leap into the air and call out in harmony. We were lucky enough to witness this behavior a few times (though from a great distance).
Image: A sandhill crane pair.
Image: A portrait of a sandhill crane pair.
Though they reach sexual maturity at two years of age, most sandhill cranes don’t have their first brood until five or six years. Regardless, love was in the air at Hiwassee as pairs danced and sang in the warm sunlight. Juveniles, who lack the bright red crown of mature cranes, were testing the waters of potential mates. They won’t lay eggs until they travel back to Wisconsin, likely in April or May, but it was special to witness the first glimmers of love!
Image: A juvenile sandhill crane striking a pose.
To put it simply, Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge is a special place, often overlooked and underappreciated. Tucked away in the mountains and wilderness of eastern Tennessee, all of the work it takes to locate this gem is worth it. The cranes, by their very presence, guarantee an unforgettable and special experience. I have had many encounters with wildlife over the years, but very few can top the feeling I got while watching and photographing these birds. I have tried to capture that wonder in this blog, but I doubt that I have done the exhilaration and elation justice.
So, if you’re looking for a wildlife experience next winter, I’d suggest adding Hiwassee to your itinerary. You won’t regret it!
