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| Sandhill Crane |
(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator
George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere
in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Birds and fish show nature’s
techniques for balancing books” was originally published in the Nov. 24, 1988 edition
of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)
The time was 4 p.m. on Sept. 17. My wife and I had packed
some sandwiches and iced tea and headed up to one of our favorite spots, on the
river, near the ferry.
Upon arrival, we sat for a while and talked about the events
of the past week, as we watched the waters of the rising river flow quietly
toward the ocean, many miles to the south. Waters from the recent rains had
caused the river currents to become alive, as though the flowing waters had
been awakened from a deep sleep.
The evening sun was making its way slowly westward, and the
shadows from the west bank had just touched the edge of the water. It was a
time of the evening when all was at peace.
An unusual show
Schools of tiny minnows had surfaced on the river currents,
feeding on the bugs and other insects that had fallen victim to the mighty
waters. Little did we know that Mother Nature was setting the stage for quite
an unusual show there on the waters of the mighty river.
As the minnows surfaced, looking for their evening meal,
four large white cranes were circling over the waters, trying to pluck from the
moving currents a juicy minnow. It was their evening meal time also.
As the cranes would dive toward the water, the shadows of
their wings would each time alert the schools of minnows and they would quickly
disappear below the surface to safety.
The cranes would then climb laboriously back to the desired
altitude, so as to be able to see the schools of minnows when they came to the
surface again.
This action was repeated many, many times. It seemed that
maybe the cranes would go to bed hungry. Then we noticed one of the cranes had
flown upriver, very low over the water. He then landed on a large piece of
driftwood that was moving with the slow currents as they made their way down
river.
Retrieving a minnow
The crane stood very still on the driftwood as it floated
almost without a ripple, near where the schools of hungry minnows were feeding.
As the driftwood entered the school of minnows, the wise crane would quickly
stretch his long neck forward and downward and retrieve from the water a fat, juicy
minnow.
He would quickly straighten his neck and twist his head as
he swallowed his prize. Then he would become very still again, as his acclaimed
piece of driftwood moved slowly down the river and into another school of
feeding minnows.
His partners were still diving and circling with little or
no luck. Ten times the wise crane reached out and plucked from the water a fat
minnow. We wondered just how many it was going to take to satisfy his appetite
each time he pulled one from the water.
The river current had moved the driftwood and our friend a
couple of hundred yards downstream. During the time we had been watching, he
had pulled 14 of the fat minnows from the water. We assured each other that he
couldn’t hold many more.
Sure enough, as another school of minnows approached, he
didn’t reach out and stretch his neck. He just kind of settled back on his
piece of driftwood and seemed to gloat over his accomplishments.
Enjoying the scenery
His three friends had long since given up their diving acts
in disgust. But the wise crane continued to float slowly downriver, lying back,
with a full stomach, and seeming to enjoy the scenery.
The shadows of the evening had crept out onto the river. The
driftwood and its passenger had become a blur downstream. Just as we were
trying to get one last look at our friend, a large splash was heard alongside
the piece of driftwood.
We did not see our friend rise above the waters; we couldn’t
see whether the crane has survived the attack, by perhaps an alligator or a
very large fish of some sort. It, too, was probably looking for its evening
meal.
As we stood there on the bank of the mighty river, we were
reminded once again that Mother Nature sometimes has very strange ways when she
balances her books.
(Singleton, the author
of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of
79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime
resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances
Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in
Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a
U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand,
lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964
and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from
June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks
to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe
County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe
Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that
appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared
in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He is buried in Pineville
Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns
are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County
Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week
for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work
and memory alive.)
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