I'm going out on a limb and proclaiming last week's dump of snow the final gasp of the winter. A couple of warm days were then followed by a blast of warm breezes from the south. Even nighttime temps have remained above freezing for the past two days and are scheduled to continue for 3 more. Most of the lawn is now devoid of snow, although several drifts of 3 feet or more in depth linger in some spots. A criss-crossing network of extension cords and garden hoses litters the yard, as we pump out the water that accumulates after a snowy winter that ends with a sudden thaw.
We have well over a hundred Juncos in the yard, as well as smaller numbers of Purple Finches, Fox Sparrows (a personal favourite), White-throated Sparrows, White-Crowned Sparrows, and a few singletons: a Song Sparrow, a Swamp Sparrow, a Harris' Sparrow, and even an uncommon Vesper Sparrow. A Sharp-shinned and a Cooper's Hawk are regular in the yard, and even a Goshawk has strafed the Sharp-tailed Grouse a couple times recently.
But the
creme de la creme of new birds arrived this afternoon while I worked around the yard. I've been hearing them for several days now, one of the most ethereal and haunting sounds in nature...I've even seen several flocks (or "sedges") of them migrating high overhead, but I haven't seen the ones I was looking for until now. But, today...Donner and Blitzen have returned!
D and B (affectionately referred to as Dave and Betty) are a mated pair of Sandhill Cranes who attempt to breed and rear a youngster each year in the field adjacent to the house. Today they came coasting in as I walked into the garage, coming to ground only 100 yards from where I stood motionless. That's close for Sandhills; they're big birds, standing close to 4 feet tall, but they like open fields and are very flighty, not allowing close approach. Many people refer to Great Blue Herons as "Cranes", which they are not, but these guys are the Real Deal. As soon as they lit in the field, they began to display their courtship behaviour, leaping and bowing and flapping their wings and generally putting on a show. Their calls are extremely loud and carry well, and they add an unearthly quality to the display.
Dave and Betty hatched two chicks last year (the typical number for Sandhills) but failed to raise any to maturity. Usually only one will survive to maturity, but the chicks ("colts") are hatched in nests on the ground and although precocial, they still can't fly until they are a couple months old. Two months on the ground is a long time to survive when surrounded by coyotes, wolves and numerous other predators. The last time Dave and Betty successfully reared a chick to flying age was 2024. They're about due for some good luck this year again.
Another pair of Sandhills nests in the field to the west of the house, directly opposite to Dave and Betty, but these other birds are much more aloof and spend most of their time at the far extreme edge of their field, far from the house. They haven't been honoured with names; they're just The Male and The Female, whereas Dave and Betty are practically family.
As soon as Dave and Betty moved behind a clump of brush so that we were obscured to each other, I turned and went into the house. My wife raised an eyebrow when I entered; I had outlined my intended accomplishments for the day and she knew I hadn't completed them. I just said "Dave and Betty are back" and she nodded, accepting that excuse for the cessation of noisy outdoor labour.
Here's the happy couple, just a quick and crappy cellphone pic:
No further reports of it, but I'm watching the bird alerts like a...well, like a hawk! 
I will head back into town if it is turned up again, but I fear it has moved on to greener pastures, or at least less-white ones.
