The Switching/Yard

We Cover Our Heads Like Deer

9 We Cover Our Heads Like Deer Platte River Whooping Crane Trust, James L. Grahl Research Center, Nebraska One poet of mixed Wendat/Huron/Metis/ Tsalagi/Creek/French Canadian/Portuguese/ Irish/Scot/English ancestry, born in Texas, came of age in North Carolina, Canada, and on the Great Plains. Another born and raised on the Fort Mohave Indian Reservation in Needles, California, lives in Surprise, Arizona. Me—American/Canadian/Polish/German/ Irish and unknown, born in Pittsburgh. We’re covering our heads with blankets, walking to the cranes. Allison says: You need to be quiet, put this blanket over your head and walk like a deer. I look at her sideways, not knowing what that means. I look at Natalie, who smiles and covers her head. They start walking toward the blind, and I fall in behind, bending over a bit, making myself smaller and walking a straight line as they seem to be. Natalie says, Jan, look at the muskrat by the side pool. I look, but see only grasses by the water. Allison says: See the guard birds— they’re coming back to alert and gather. I see thousands of sandhill cranes on the Platte, feel the air full of their arriving, can’t find the guard birds. I hear nothing, see nothing but what seems to be right in front of me. I have to cough, wonder if that will disturb the birds? Allison says: Just cough from deep in your diaphragm, imagine you are a large bird. ...