Wings Over Willcox

Morning sky. They send out calls to each other and to the day. The sandhill cranes are arising from the land of southeastern Arizona. "Impressive," softly comments one of the human flock after the birds have disappeared from view. "Wasn't it, though," sighs another. Then they reboard their tour buses to follow the sandhill cranes to the nearby fields and get breakfast. The tours comprise part of Wings Over Willcox, a celebration held the third weekend of every January in the small town of Willcox. Birders come from as far away as Oregon and New Jersey to join in the three days of honoring the sandhill cranes. The stars of this yearly show have all the stature and bearing of bird-world supermodels. Standing up to 4 feet tall with a wingspan of up to 7 feet, their gray feathered bodies adjoin long, thin black legs. These legs were made for dancing and, on the ground, sandhills can be seen doing a kind of high-stepping shimmy for courting, anxiety or simple joy.

They set up booths at the accompanying trade show and give out free brochures, posters, information and conversation. "We're promoting eco-tourism," states John Bacorn, wildlife manager with the Arizona Game and Fish Department. Birding tours go out from the Willcox Community Center dawn to dusk during the three-day event. Seminars cover everything from basic birding to bird photography. Speakers, artists and volunteers create a small town of workers who unite their efforts to bring people and sandhills together. Surprisingly, all of this attention goes to pleasing only about 800 birders. Sad? "Not at all," says Homer Hansen, chairman of Wings Over Willcox 2000. "I think it's a good size," he says. Even at 800 participants, some tours are booked fully months in advance. He also points to the friendly environment of the celebration, comparing it to a small university or college atmosphere where everyone gets to know everyone else.

True "snowbirds," the sandhills arrive in October and stay until March in Sulphur Springs Valley, which runs south approximately 80 miles from Willcox to Douglas. And those Jersey folks don't hold bragging rights on travel. Some sandhills make the trip from as far away as Alaska and Siberia. They spend the winter roosting in the shallow seasonal waters of the Willcox Playa, a massive, but shallow, lake bed south of town. Others go farther south to the Whitewater Draw Wildlife Area near McNeal. They feed from the harvest leftovers of corn and grain in the farm fields of the valley. They must like the accommodations. A 1970 census of the sandhills indicated 850 wintered in the area. In the 1980s, 11,500give or take a wing or two made the trip. And in 2000, the Arizona Department of Game and Fish counted more than 20,000 sandhill cranes in the Sulphur Springs Valley area; 8,000 in Willcox alone. "I saw thousands of them," recounts Dr. Vinod Singh of Kingman, after his predawn experience. "They're amazing." The numbers for the volunteer component of the Wings Over Willcox weekend also amaze. In addition to the expected birding and conservation groups, event sponsors and supporters include a representative from almost every state and federal agency involved in land and wildlife management.

"This is for intermediates and novices," Hansen says. Advanced birders generally Visit the area on their own throughout the year, and not just for the sandhills. Avid birders know this part of Arizona, home to 200-250 species, as one of the best locations in the country. Wings Over Willcox participants get a taste of the famed variety of bird life here with additional tours for spotting hawks, eagles, falcons and owls. Event leaders consider a "sparrow stalk tour" successful when they see four species. This year, one group caught a glimpse of 10. Still, on this third weekend in January, the sandhill cranes call both loudly and sweetly to their fellow human travelers. They remain the stars that fill the sky above and the eyes below with wonder. "Look at this. Look at this!" the human call goes out from the group huddled in the cold gray-dawn twilight. They do look up to the rising of the sandhill cranes. For both gentle flocks, this promises to be a beautiful day.

WILLCOX Dance of Rocks Hoodoos Cavort With Sunlight

I never thought I'd talk to rocks. But here on the highest peak in the Superstition Wilderness I do. "Hey, mind if I join you again?" I ask, as if talking to old friends. "May I watch you dance again that dance you do with the sunlight?" Within this giant Stonehenge, massive hoodoo towers crowd around me. My crippling climb to the top almost over, they embrace me as I move among them. I lower the heavy backpack that has resisted each step and catch my breath. Here-just 40 miles east of downtown Phoenix wilderness and civilization collide, Not buffered by miles of gradual change. Through careful protection, this wilderness-next-door remains truly wild in the face of the encroaching suburbs. Two strands of barbed wire form the boundary of the Superstition Wilderness as if the massive cliff were not boundary enough! The performance begins the sun leads, the shadows follow and the rocks bring the two together in a ballet of color and form. In the fiery climax, all the wilderness performers come alive with a crescendo of screaming reds and oranges. As the sun leaves the stage, now lit only by the stars, the final performers appear behind me. A shimmering blanket of lights unfolds from the city beyond the barbed wire, converging on the distant western horizon. I turn away, back to the rocks, and whisper a benediction. "Thank you."