WHITEWATER DRAW — Hawks and harriers patrol the spent grasses looking for a quick meal. Barn owls, hidden among the branches of desert willows, try to warm themselves in the sun. And high, high above, a small flock of the greater sandhill cranes head to the open fields where corn and alfalfa grew just a few months ago.

The early morning air is brisk, made blustery by a stiff wind. Still, a hardy group heads out to the walk the trails and witness first-hand the feathered beauties of Whitewater Draw Wildlife Area just south of Elfrida led by Sherrie Williamson, director and cofounder with her husband of SABO (Southeastern Arizona Birding Observatory).

The 1,800-acre oasis that comprises the wildlife area is home to many species of birds year-round. But, in the winter, the most spectacular thing happens. The sandhill cranes come by the thousands to take advantage of grain and corn left in the fields of Cochise County after harvest.

The greater sandhill crane and its smaller cousin, the lesser sandhill crane, start moving into the wintering territory in November. They are joined by several species of ducks — mallards, teals, northern pintails, shovelers, wood ducks — and snow geese.

A lone sandhill crane leads a group of Snow and Ross Geese over the Whitewater Draw Wildlife Area near Elfrida. Thousands of cranes are wintering in the area, a haven for bird watchers. Ed Honda•Herald/Review

One year, said Williamson, trumpeter swans were spotted.

“There is an amazing variety of birds and birds of prey here at Whitewater Draw. There are golden eagles and bald eagles that sometimes come here. They can take a crane, but it’s not their preferred food,” she added.

The draw is situated on an old ranch formerly called the Hyannis Cattle Co. The land forms a natural depression that fills with water from the summer rains. It collects ample water during the monsoon. Winter rains help keep the water level up, creating the miniature ecosystem that so many species of birds use on their migrations.

Though it is not known just how many cranes called the draw their winter home years ago when it was a ranch, she explained, the flock has grown over the 10 years the Arizona Game and Fish Department has managed it.

“We tried to get someone to purchase it when it came up for sale so it could be preserved,” said Williamson. “I was working with The Nature Conservancy then and I talked with them. But it was the man who owned it who got with Game and Fish who finally got the deal through.”

Thanks to those who purchase lottery tickets (money goes into Heritage Fund) and those who purchase ammo and from the Sportsmen’s Wildlife Restoration Fund, the purchase was approved and Game and Fish took over to create one of the state’s most unique marsh wildlands.

Over the years, crane numbers have fluctuated, but this year it’s been estimated that 21,000 cranes winter here in the high desert on the playa lake. That number may increase, she notes, since more farmers are turning to corn as a cash crop.

Each adult crane downs around a pound to a pound-and-a-half of corn every day. Most of the time, if the rains were ample, there is plenty for the cranes and geese to last until February when they again take flight and head for the summer breeding grounds.

The water is not deep. It varies between 18 inches and 2 feet, far less if it’s a dry year. To preserve the marsh in times of drought, Game and Fish may add water to the playa from ground wells.

In the southwestern corner lies a thicket of willows that provide shelter and roosts for 43 western barn owls, says Williamson. The count was made on Christmas Day, and she was surprised at the number of owls that were found.

The western barn owl is a golden color with a whitish-tan chest. They pick off rodents and ground squirrels and even the unwary bird.

High above in the bright blue sky, several cranes are circling, waiting for the rest of the gang to come back from their day of feeding. They are joined by a large flock of snow geese whose pure white bodies and black-tipped wings stand in stark contrast to the deep blue sky. The two flocks merge at one point and then split up again. One crane, possibly a young orphan, has taken to the front of the geese formation and is leading them back over the marsh.

After several circles, the geese decide it’s safe to land and make a touchdown on the barren ground resembling a sand bar in the middle of the marsh. The marsh is frozen over, except for a few spots of open water that the ducks have claimed. A few of the geese test the surface that is supposed to be liquid and full of little things to eat. Their awkward steps lead to a lot of slipping and sliding on the ice. They poke at the surface with their bills, shake their heads and walk back toward shore.

A little coot is struggling across the muddy berm and ends up stuck. He waits as the water fills the depression from his huge feet and manages to wriggle his foot to freedom.

The cranes look like squadrons of planes, lines and lines of incoming aircraft. By the thousands they join up, nudging their way into position. Then they split off again and again. This dance lasts for hours as they determine whether or not it’s safe to land, explains Williamson. The eagles may be about and that can keep them from coming down to the marsh and into naked-eye viewing range.

But, there’s plenty to watch as the long-legged, long-necked prehistoric looking birds fly up and down and back and forth.

The red-tailed hawk and the ferringous hawk are on patrol and the red-tail scores a hit and feasts on his catch at the water’s edge. The tiny, but deadly, loggerhead shrike is also busy looking for something to fill his stomach. A vermillion flycatcher works the melting water’s surface for tiny crustaceans. American pipits, killdeer, spotted sandpipers all run up and down the shoreline. Then, an unusual sighting. A trio of Dowatchers, another shore bird that digs deep into the soft mud to stir up worms, shrimp and more tiny crustaceans. “We call them sewing machine birds,” says Williamson. “The way they keep their heads down and just bob it up and down like stitching on a sewing machine.”

The crane flock is growing as more and more join the dance — rising and falling, rising and falling — merging and splitting continuously.

The cranes may come from as far away as Siberia, Williamson pointed out. One bird carried a radio transmitter, and Williamson was able to get the identification number off the small box attached to the bird’s leg. She called and found out that the crane had summered in Siberia, thousands and thousands of miles away. It came to Arizona via the Platt River in Nebraska. “Isn’t that just amazing?” she asks.

The cranes make their way from their summer breeding grounds from across the North American continent and Asia, and somehow find this little patch of blue water in the middle of the desert.

The parents usually stay with their young through the winter. After that they are on their own.

The crane count and bird counts, though, aren’t the only counts being taken at Whitewater Draw. A new car counter has been added at the entrance, and in just one month the draw drew 850 vehicles. Williamson estimates that during the year, around 25,000 people find their way to the marsh.

“What amazes me the most, though, is that people who live here and around Bisbee don’t even know that this spectacular place is here,” Williamson added.

SHAR PORIER can be reached at 515-4692 or by e-mail at shar.porier@bisbeereview.net.