Birds of heaven

A few years ago my friend Peter Matthiessen, the novelist/naturalist/Zen master, wrote a book about cranes called "The Birds of Heaven." What a lovely title, and how apt. Cranes can soar as high as 20,000 feet in the sky. Their annual migrations are as long as 3,000 miles. Surely they glimpse heaven on those journeys.

No wonder many cultures have revered cranes for centuries, and consider them symbols of good luck and longevity. In Japan, cranes are nearly mythical beings, capable of granting a wish to whomever folds 1,000 paper likenesses of these majestic birds.

Once in my life, I was near a whooping crane. What a transcendent experience! These incredible creatures have a wingspan of eight feet. They are immense and white, and quite intimidating up close -- yet beautiful. Messengers from heaven.

A friend of mine invited me to come with her to the Kissimmee Prairie in the middle of Florida, where volunteers and scientists were caring for a nonmigratory flock of whoopers -- part of a national effort to preserve this fragile species, which remains in grave danger of extinction.

While the wildlife experts took blood samples and other measurements from each crane, the volunteers held the other ones and tried to keep them calm, sitting in metal folding chairs, one bird in each lap, fitted with a canvas hood so it couldn't see its surroundings. Because I hadn't been trained to work with the cranes, I was not allowed to hold one but that was fine with me. These huge creatures, as tall as five feet, are a bit scary at close quarters. I sat next to my friend and watched. We had to be very quiet, to keep the cranes' stress level to a minimum.

As I fold these little squares of origami paper, I think of that day and the profound silence in that circle of chairs. We were in the presence of heaven, I think.