On Fragile Wings: The story of the whooping crane

Driving along a desolate road in search of wildlife, it was clear that bear season was in full swing. With oats ripening in the fields, I knew I might catch sight of a black bear foraging nearby. Canada geese were already gathering in a freshly harvested field, their feast of leftover seeds a welcome fuel for their migration. But today, as I approached, something else caught my eye. Scanning the ridge of a lone hill rising from the field, my initial thought was that I was looking at snow geese. But no, they were too large, too solitary, and their stark white bodies contrasted sharply with the grey storm clouds rolling in behind them.

“It couldn’t be,” I thought. “Whooping cranes are incredibly rare in this area.”

I quickly snapped a photo and checked it on my Merlin app which confirmed they were indeed cranes, towering nearly five feet tall. I stopped and watched them, their slow lurching gait awkwardly graceful and so distinct, feasting on the wayward seeds that missed being picked up by the combine in the harvested field.

When I first picked up a camera, my goal was simple: to capture the incredible wildlife around me. Living in Northern Alberta’s boreal forest, I was surrounded by moose, deer, coyotes, owls, wolves, caribou, foxes, and countless other species. But as I spent more time immersed in nature, I noticed not just the animals, but their changing habitats as well. The landscapes were evolving, and with them, the stories of the creatures living within them. With noticing these changes came the shift in my focus from merely taking pictures to telling the deeper stories of these creatures through my lens.

Watching the cranes, I wondered why they were here. Of course, I knew they migrated, but it was still mid-August and whooping cranes usually don’t start their migration from Wood Buffalo National Park, just a few hours north of me, to Aransas National Wildlife Refuge in south Texas until late in September1.

I watched them from a distance, careful not to get too close and risk scaring them away. As the cranes slowly made their way across the ridge, eventually disappearing from view, I was left with a burning curiosity. I’d seen one or two over the years, but never a group like this, and never so early in the season. These birds were such a rare sight, a true enigma to me. Driven by this encounter, I dove into the history of the whooping crane and what I found was both fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.