When the sun sets over the Texas Coast, birds seem to fly from every direction, crisscrossing the skies in twos, threes or in flocks of many.
The birds fly to their preferred roost for the night.
For the Sandhill Cranes, this is often a swampy area where the water will protect them from coyotes and other predators.
Standing in a field on the West End of Galveston Island as the sky was about to shed the brilliance of the last sunlight, a chorus of bird-calls rose with the evening breeze while silhouetted flocks of all designs traced the sky.
This particular January evening, I heard a swoosh right above me, as if 20 magicians had chosen to fly their magic carpets over my head. In fact, it was a flock of thirty Sandhill Cranes about to land in a patch of wetland near 103rd Street belonging to the Galveston Bay Foundation.
The outlines of urban settlement behind them brought highlighted how our lives are intertwined with the natural world: Cranes and humans living side by side, following our schedules according to individual clocks but ruled by the same sun.