On Crane Wives and Crouch Threats
A Japanese folktale that I’m not particularly familiar with, Tsuru Nyōbō, tells of a man who married a woman; the woman, it turns out, was actually a crane, and she had been plucking out her own feathers to sell for money. He begs her to stop, and says that love is not worth such sacrifice, but, somehow, the punchline is that one MUST sacrifice for love, especially if one wants to deserve a crane for their wife. I don’t endorse lying or self harm, and I also do not want a crane for a wife. I do not understand this story.
Now Reader, I actually had a chance to marry a crane. I, Jesse, actually literally had this opportunity presented to me. But though they may be beautiful, graceful, inquisitive creatures with many subtleties in their communication, that hardly seems like enough to build a solid pair bonding between two beings. And while my twenty-year-old self enjoyed camping and travel, I also enjoyed going indoors sometimes or eating warm cooked meals, and I lacked the wings to migrate. Also, you know, I continue to enjoy conversations, out loud, with words. Also, at the moment it happened, I was in terror.
Cranes do communicate, even if they don’t use words. In most normal situations, everything an average person will see an average crane do is a threat. (Just a note, in case anyone is still lost: we’re talking about the birds here, not the machines. I never spent a summer as an intern naturalist for the International Construction Crane Foundation.)
Sometimes cranes floof out their feathers and shimmy. Cute though it is, this is meant to be read as a threat. Sometimes they intensely groom one spot on their body while giving you serious side-eye. Weird flex, but this is also meant as a threat. Or there’s a come-at-me-bro pose with their wings open. Very pretty, and we like seeing those wings, but that’s also a threat. Cranes also have an extensive repertoire of noises and other movements — bustling their tail feathers, strutting, pacing — all meant to threaten you.
It’s not that they’re ornery bastards all the time, it’s just that cranes don’t like to feel crowded, and humans are generally always unwelcome intruders. If you’ve ever seen a crane up close, on display or in the wild, here’s how it likely went down:
You: Whoa look, a crane!
Crane: Go away.
You: Look, it’s showing off for us!
Crane: I said fuck off.
You: Hey, it made a noise!
Crane: INTRUDER! INTRUDER!
Nearby Cranes, joining in: INTRUDER! INTRUDER! INTRUDER!
You: Haha, they’re all singing!
So then, picture me at twenty: shoulder length hair held back in a bandana, paid $2.50 an hour to show up early to feed and give water to the cranes, then to walk backward and give tours to sightseers, answering good and stupid questions alike, and then to spend all the rest of my time hunched over a large binder in a small room, memorizing every fact I could about all 15 species of crane. Their range, their endangered status, their diet, and the history of conservation efforts. The Sarus Crane can get up to six feet tall, with a wingspan of up to eight feet. The US has two types of crane: one is the most endangered in the world, and one is the least. African Crowned Cranes are the only type that can perch in trees, because they have one backward facing claw long enough to grab a branch; the others will only ever land on the ground. The ICF is the only place in the world you you can see all fifteen species. We once thought Whooping Cranes were extinct, but then people found a nest and stole some eggs to raise, and Dr. George Archibald danced with one to convince it to have more eggs, or something, and then people in full body suit crane costumes started raising them so they were used to other cranes and whatnot.
Good times. Some of the info is stuck in my head and still comes out randomly on hikes to this day.
Me: Did you know that cranes don’t have the ability to swallow, so when they drink water they scoop it in their mouth, hold their head up in the air, then wiggle so the water can get to their stomach?
Literally everyone: No, we did not know that.
Me: I wonder if a crane would even be able to drink in space. Probably not.
Literally everyone: Thank you, Jesse. That was important information.
I wasn’t nearly as dedicated as Dr. Archibald, and didn’t strive to be. This was an internship with the education department so I could get a letter of rec to help me in my dreams of becoming an English teacher. Like many things in the life of someone with untreated ADHD, this was to be a fascinating — but temporary — experience.
So anyway, early in my studies, I was also warned about the “crouch threat.” See, I would presumably never see a crouch threat, but it was important to know it. Where other threats are just attempts at communicating displeasure, an actual crouch threat is just the position a crane takes before it charges and attacks you. It’s not really a threat, it’s a promise.
I don’t know how bad this would be. I mean, cranes have claws like velociraptors. They have beaks like swords. Some of them stand six feet tall, can look me in the eye, and could easily outrun me without breaking a sweat (not just because birds do not have sweat glands).
Okay. Be like twenty-year old me in the early summer of 2006: set that aside for the moment, but don’t forget it. Put on your bandana, hop on your electric golf cart, grab your bucket of seed, a clean pair of boots, all your hopes for the future, and let’s go for a ride.
The different cranes had different personalities. Some were solitary, some were paired. Some were skittish, and some were aggressive. With some, I knew I could sanitize my boots, open the gate, walk in, and change things, so long as I kept an eye out, and the cranes would hide on the far end. Others — the pair of Brolgas, I believe — were nesting and thus super aggressive, charging up to the fence and trying to attack you if you came near at all. (Brolgas are Australian. I know the rumor is that everything in Australia tries to kill you. So… I mean, I was told it was because they were nesting, but I assume they would have taken any chance they saw regardless.)
And then there was Slidell.
Slidell, named for the city she was born in, is an African Grey Crowned Crane. When she was born in 2001, she had imprinted on humans, because the humans were not wearing full-body crane costumes. This has complex implications, but the short version is basically that she thinks she’s a human and wants to bond with other humans. She’s generally aggressive toward all other cranes and toward human women, but is friendly toward any human she perceives as a guy. Despite my long hair, I was generally perceivable as a dude.
Because of this, when I fed her, I could sanitize my boots and walk into her enclosure. She’d walk right up to me, stand next to me, and peck at the keys hanging from my belt. Tilt her head, look at me, look at the food, peck at the keys. She’s about three feet tall, with a grey/white/brown body, and a lovely spiky gold crown on top (she’s a grey, crowned-crane, not a grey-crowned crane).
And so went the summer.
Until one day, when the event happened. I walked in. We did the usual hello and key-pecking as I got the food ready, then Slidell moved a short distance away, looked at me, and performed a crouch threat.
Nothing was different today; I’d come in like normal, brought the food. I’d never seen a crouch threat in person before. My heart rate skyrocketed. Images of a crane beak piercing through my heart or claws tearing lines in my skin flashed through my mind. What had I done? I didn’t deserve this! I measured the distance between her and me, between me and the door. I grabbed my bucket, rushed out, and slammed and locked the door.
I rushed back to the naturalist office.
Me: Hey, uh… This is really weird. Slidell just gave me a crouch threat.
Naturalists: Hahahahaha! No, she didn’t.
Me: Umm. I think she did.
Naturalist: Ah, naive child. That wasn’t a crouch threat.
As a side note, I identify as somewhere between asexual and demisexual, and I’m pretty much terribly at being aware of human flirting. So I was already starting on a poor foot for noticing it when translated across species.
See, when cranes are with those close to them, they stop being threatening. They have more noises and body language that they use to communicate affection, concern, and a host of other feelings. Remember that description of a crouch threat from the pamphlet above? Go back and re-read it, and maybe you’ll guess the issue here.
Female cranes also have a posture — which to the non-crane eye looks similar to a crouch threat — which they use to offer to build a nest together with a desired partner.
In other words, here’s a summary of the summer from Slidell’s point of view.
Me: Hey Crane. Wow, so pretty!
Slidell: Ooooh, new boyfriend?
Me: Haha, yep, those are my keys
Slidell: Hey you.
[repeat for a month]
Me: Hey, good to see you.
Slidell: Hey. You’re amazing. I think we can make a go of things. Let’s build a nest, yeah?
Me: O fuck. *Exits*
And that was the end of my story. I kept feeding her, but she never brought it up again. Probably hella embarrassing.
I’ve visited a few times since then, but I’m not sure she remembers me. From what I gather, I was neither the first nor the last to be the target of her affections. Last year she moved to the Brookfield Zoo so the ICF could bring in a female crane that wanted to mate with other cranes, since her species is endangered.
For me, I happily went on to do well in college, get a series of teaching jobs, realize that teaching is a terrible and abusive profession, get out of teaching, and along the way happily date and then marry a wonderful human. This was just an amusing anecdote to recall as a “oh yeah, that happened!” moment.
I never considered what might have happened had I responded differently to Slidell until a story from 2018 went viral about Chris Crowe, “the man who married a crane,” a naturalist who was in the same situation, except with Walnut the White-Naped Crane at the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute. The difference is that he stayed, and used his closeness to help keep her comfortable while they kept their conservation efforts going.
His is a fantastic story, and it’s ongoing. Depending on conditions and predation, cranes in the wild often live just one or two years… or in captivity, up to twenty years… or in the right conservation conditions, up to eighty years. Given that I don’t see any substantial benefits to marrying a crane, this seems like an insane sacrifice for a relationship built on entirely too insubstantial a foundation. What had I done to deserve this — bring food and water most days? Given a head-pat or two? Such is not the basis for decades long partnerships. I am also ill-equipped to keep eggs warm.
While there’s certainly a part of me, craving fame, that hears his story and wants to join it with, “Oh yeah? That happened to me too!” I realize that my story isn’t the same. I was, as usual, slightly spooked and oblivious to social cues, and I wasn’t ready for that level of commitment, or sacrifice. I was a student, and not ready to live forever, working as an intern for $2.50 an hour in my hometown, never retiring, just so this crane would feel comfortable enough to have babies and help save her species.
Crane conservation is a worthwhile endeavor, and George Archibald and Chris Crowe are doing great work, but I do not endorse crane wives for the average person. The sacrifice would be too large. In the end, I have to wonder whether there is more truth in that Japanese folktale than I’d originally thought.
Revised 11/2/21.
Note: If you want to learn more about cranes or crane conservation, I strongly recommend visiting the International Crane Foundation, either at their campus in Baraboo, Wisconsin or at their website, savingcranes.org. While this story is an honest description of my own experience and I’ve attempted to research it to the best of my ability, I will point out that I only worked there for a summer, fifteen years ago, so I apologize if any details from my memories are off.
Read more about Chris Crowe and Walnut the Crane here: https://smithsonianassociates.org/ticketing/tickets/strange-and-curious-smithsonian-jobs-dove-and-crowe-their-work-is-for-the-birds
Read more about Slidell here: https://savingcranes.org/its-not-goodbye-grey-crowned-crane-slidell-moves-to-brookfield-zoo/
Read more about the Japanese folktale here:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsuru_no_Ongaeshi#The_Crane_Wife
[After every article, I’ll supply a not-necessarily related musical pairing. While the tone may be wrong, I feel like I have no option but to link “The Crane Wife, parts 1, 2, and 3 by Colin Meloy of the Decemberists for this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPOMHM6waxk]
