I've camped out most of my life, until I lost most of the use of my legs, and have heard many night-time grunts, groans and unexplainable sounds. Nothing near enough, however, to make me check the rifle for quick access. The only one I tracked down was on a five-acre patch we owned in eastern NC. At sundown, and at first light, a series of calls that I can only describe as "GRONK!!!". I'd cleared the front half of scrub, small oak and pine, and about 3,000 miles of poison ivy vines, but the back half was still jungle. I finally couldn't take any more "GRONK" wake-up calls, and cut a path in the general direction of the calls. After a couple of mornings, I located a huge nest of sticks and small branches, with three large crane chicks just beginning to get brave enough to walk out onto the tree branches. Never got near enough to identify them, and the overhead was too dense to get more than a glimpse of the parents as they flew in and out. Last time I saw them was when they did a family flyover (maybe just a last look at the old homestead), all five, in formation, headed east toward the marshlands.
