Lunē G.

Sandhill cranes are my neighbors. Sandhills are a large species of dusky grey crane with a scarlet cap who are Native to Seminole Territory and beyond. This season, a family of three has been hanging around my yard.

They graze the artificial lawns of the neighborhoods for grubs and snails, occasionally letting out an ear splitting call that reminds you that these are indeed the descendants of jurassic raptors.

They’ve gotten used to us over time and will approach incidentally- for instance once while I was inspecting a tiny baby snake on the sidewalk, one of the adults walked right up and ate it, completely undeterred by my presence. However, they tend to come across as entirely prey oriented rather than curious about humans at all.

Last month was exhausting, and after its events I was feeling depleted and a bit withdrawn. Suffice it to say I’d been licking my wounds, and while I was grateful for my relative safety and survival, it was not lost on me how issues of identity may have made things much harder than they needed to be.

So I went outside to greet the sun and noticed that the family of cranes was in the sideyard near the front. I didn’t want to disturb them, so I went to sit on my patio among the plants. But when I went around back, one of the adult cranes was there, approaching the patio just as I arrived. I thought this was a little odd because they usually move as a group, but ok. I sat down, happy to coexist with the bird if it wanted to inspect the garden for food…but it did not. Instead it walked right up to where I was sitting and looked at me. For many minutes it seemed to look around and then at me again; I gently extended a hand for inspection and it leaned forward, looked at it, and then back at me.

While the crane gave me the distinct feeling it was looking for something, I figured I couldn’t help it, and went inside so that I could get to my front porch.

And when I opened the door, it was there.

Now for it to be right there three feet in front of my door it must have walked to the front from the outside just as fast or faster as I did from inside. It stood there, looking at me and blocking the walkway.

So I sat on my stool, there with the crane.

Again it stared, looked inquisitively at me, groomed itself, and went back to looking me over. A couple of times it burbled quietly, thoughtfully. I asked myself why it would be interested in me- what was it that this bird thought I might offer? It seemed to need something and figure that I was part of the solution.

I recalled that part of the reason these birds don’t fear us, aside from their size, is that it sees us putter around outside and in the garden. Indeed, when I first saw it nearing me earlier, I did what I usually do when non-domestic animals and I end up sharing space outdoors- fiddle with some plants and calmly express my role as a largely herbivorous primate. And then I realized what it was the crane was after- water.

More often than not, the cranes see my domestic partner in the garden carrying a dripping canister of water. The rainy (hurricane) season hadn’t started yet and it had been miserably hot- all the crows and grackles had been walking around with their mouths open.

Nearby, my roommate opened the garage, distracting the crane who walked off to inspect. Free to pick up the garden canister without startling the crane, I went and filled it, going back over to the sideboard where all the cranes were assembled.

I set it down in the shade of a tree and they immediately came over to start drinking.

I share this moment of connection along with the reflections it inspired. What are the ways natural instinct guides us to seek the things we need? And what are the ways that ego, self doubt and overthinking may block this innately guided message?

The crane did not have a mind that would lead it to think ‘I need water, and sometimes these humans have it, but I shouldn’t ask because they probably won’t understand me’. They didn’t talk themselves out of it. Yet had I not been as open to intuition, I may have said to myself ‘This bird needs something I guess, but that doesn’t have anything to do with me. I don’t understand it anyway.’

Often when we are trying to problem solve, we may see a possible solution and talk ourselves out of it before even reaching out. “They’ll probably say no.” “I’ll look foolish.” “It will just end up with rejection.”

But when we do this, we are denying ourselves and the very source of our intelligence- the sacred consciousness gifted to us. And so much of healing is realizing that you can ask and receive.

In the days that followed I was met in my exhaustion and pain by close friends who indeed understood my message: I am hurt, I am tired, I need your love and support. And I’m grateful for the role the cranes in their need played in this moment.

Closed mouths don’t get fed, or watered. In your journey, don’t let shame, overthinking, scarcity mindsets or any other form of separation trauma keep you from using the gift of communication to get your needs met. It’s a vulnerable task, yes. But worth it.