Increasingly as you prowl around the wetlands of northern Ohio, your ears may pick up a cacophony of deep-warbling calls.
The ragged music inspires a made-up word, “rawking,” or as some folks call it, a “rolling bugle” call. It is a haunting, eerie echo from the distant past. Searching carefully, your eyes may catch sight of a small flock of big but slender gray birds – sandhill cranes – standing in a grain field or maybe setting wings to land in a marsh.
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