Sandy and …
Picture this: Somewhere in Bucks County, the sun has just slipped past the crest of the ridge, leaving the silhouette of leafless trees against a pinkish afterglow. Every molecule of air around you feels romantic in the lavender twilight. The soft flutter of remaining leaves and the subtle wavering of uncut wild grass carry the worries of a long workday away as the wind brushes your neck and ears.
Your eyes are fixated on the magical palette of the western sky this January evening. Skeins of Canada geese chase the last remaining light, moving from east to west. Your ears, far removed from the humdrum of road noise, are filled with their harsh crosstalk overhead. You wonder how many geese there are in the world. A few branch off to settle on the frozen lake near a patch of open water.
A biker swifts past you down the windy paved trail that skirts the reservoir dam; you see only his head bobbing above the tall grass. In the corner of your eye, a northern harrier finishes its last flyover for an evening hunt. A great horned owl’s distant hoot from the woods brings a tiny smile to your face. On the frozen lake, a family of red foxes is scattered, working on their dinner. One of them peers curiously at the clear ice—perhaps a catfish is swimming by.
Just a hundred yards away, a famous pair of Sandhill Cranes wanders aimlessly—or so it seems. Once or twice, one looks up to stare at their human admirer before turning back to its mate. Maybe they are gossiping about you. Maybe they don’t care at all.
There is something so enduring and serene about this scenery, is there not? While the rest of the world feels like it is falling apart, immersion in this ephemeral moment feels endless. The promise of enjoying this every day keeps hope alive.
If you are a birder in Bucks County or a local, you’ve likely figured out I’m talking about a winter evening at Pine Run Reservoir. I know the Sandhill Cranes gave it away; it’s no secret they have wintered here for the last four or five seasons. I don’t know exactly what attracts them to Pine Run, but I don’t blame them—a meadow with a waterfront in Bucks County is a beautiful spot for a winter romance.
This pair is a local celebrity couple. Anyone with a decent phone camera has likely photographed and shared their picture a hundred times over. Some may have even framed them as centerpieces. Don’t get me wrong—they are graceful birds—but “famous” people deserve names. So, I thought of proposing names for them.
Selecting a name for the male was easy: Sandy. But I struggled with a name for the female. I looked at names meaning “hill.” Most English origins offered Bryn, Brenne, or Lindy. Though I liked “Bree” (I’m an Outlander fan), the Scottish name didn’t feel quite right. Tara sounded cool—meaning “rocky hill” in Gaelic or “star” in Sanskrit—but it didn’t make the cut. The Native American name Kiona, meaning “brown hill,” seemed perfect.
Then I read their scientific name, Antigone canadensis. In mythology, Antigone was the daughter of the King of Thebes (though some tales link her to Troy). She was said to have been turned into a stork for comparing herself to the goddess Hera. Now, Hera sounds good, too. Kiona or Hera? I can’t quite make up my mind, but for now, I’m leaning toward Sandy and Kiona. What do you think?
While browsing Birds of the World, I looked up Sandhill subspecies to see which ones our Pine Run pair might be. There are six subspecies: three are non-migratory (Cuban, Mississippi, and Florida), which leaves three northern migratory candidates: canadensis, tabida, or rowanii.
Based on geographic distribution, tabida (Greater) is a mid-continent breeder that typically winters in the southern US, while rowanii breeds in subarctic Canada and winters on the Texas coast. That leaves the Lesser Sandhill Crane (canadensis). According to eBird, Lesser Sandhills have a massive range extending all the way to Japan. However, some bird records claim our pair are Greaters (tabida). Perhaps we need more high-quality photos on eBird to better identify them. We may never know for sure without DNA analysis, but it’s worth a shot (pun intended).
Genuinely, I am just invested in seeing more of Sandy and Kiona’s pictures on eBird. Can you help?
