Over morning coffee The Old Lady remembered a photo she’d seen on Facebook recently, of sandhill cranes wintering in a north Florida field.

Perhaps I should try to find them, she thought to herself.

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The Old Lady’s photos do not do justice to the magnificent sight, and even the best photo would not adequately show them dancing in stately courtship.  They threw back their crimson-capped heads to sing their strange, high call, spreading their gray wings and lifting their long legs in elegant display.

Sometimes that which you seek finds you.