30,000 cranes are flying to Othello

OTHELLO - Call it a grand confluence - 30,000 cranes descending

from high spring skies as a thousand and more visitors stream

overland to participate in the annual Othello Sandhill Crane

Festival on Friday.  

"The Sandhill cranes give Othello identity," says city

administrator Ehman Sheldon.

OTHELLO - Call it a grand confluence - 30,000 cranes descending from high spring skies as a thousand and more visitors stream overland to participate in the annual Othello Sandhill Crane Festival on Friday.  

"The Sandhill cranes give Othello identity," says city administrator Ehman Sheldon.

It's a new deal, as it happens. Back when Othello was a railroad town amid dry land acres planted mainly in small grains, the soaring birds with their 7-foot wingspan were but a fleeting sight, folks looking up maybe when they heard the cranes' haunting calls, and then they were gone.

Ag water changed avian behavior. The Columbia Basin Irrigation Project channeled some of the Columbia River to new farms in the 1950s, enabling corn and alfalfa production along with eventually over 300 types of crops; on the adjacent federal and state wild lands, seep lakes formed. What the cranes saw were nicely secluded lakeside roosting sites not too far from field residue for convenient feeding. By the late 1960s the first few Sandhill cranes were observed to make the Othello area their stop-over for about six weeks in spring; "staging site" is the term.

Cranes are traditionalists, according to Randy Hill, who worked as US Fish and Wildlife Service biologist at Othello from 1990 to 2010.

"They learn their behavior from family groups. Some are outliers; when they find something new, something better, they bring other birds with them," he said.

By the 1990s, most of the about 40,000 Pacific Flyway cranes had learned about Othello.

The first Sandhill Crane Festival was staged in 1998.

This year the city got involved with the city council prompting the mayor to instruct Sheldon to resurrect the event when it looked as though there wouldn't be a 14th crane festival. 

Sheldon's take on the cranes' importance to the town of 6,450 is clearly visible on the map just published by the International Crane Foundation. Based on telemetric research of Sandhill crane migrations, the Pacific Flyway is shaded in yellow as a 2,400 mile swath across mountains and basins from central California to Alaska; primary and secondary crane staging areas are shown as white stars and circles, except for one red star in Eastern Washington, "the most important site."

Here's what's important to Sheldon: The description of the red star might have read "Columbia Basin" or "Columbia National Wildlife Refuge," but it doesn't. "Othello," it says clear as a bell.

"When the cranes come in they're all over the Basin," Sheldon remarked. "When word got out that this year's crane festival might get cancelled, other cities were considering taking it over. I know Quincy was talking about it."

It isn't just that the crane festival brings money to Othello businesses, but it's the one time that "true tourists" elect to come here, Sheldon pointed out.

"We're not a theme town like Leavenworth, and we don't have a mountain like Chewelah does," he elaborated. "In terms of branding, it's the Sandhill cranes that make Othello stand out."

What shocked the city council was that the crane festival would vanish despite its enormous success.

"It's become the largest nature festival in the state," Sheldon said.

Marie Lotz, who sits on the crane committee as part of her job with the local conservation district, recalled "the heartache" over lack of volunteers.

"A lot of volunteers have left the area, and no new people have been stepping in. We've asked people, we've pleaded, but every year there are less core people to kick it off. We need a younger base of volunteers, and they just don't materialize."

The visitor influx extends well beyond the festival weekend, Lotz emphasized.

"People come in droves, not just for the festival. We've already booked several senior bus tours for this March."

With volunteerism down in general, the crane committee has been discussing a festival admission price hike.

"If we raised the price we could hire somebody," Lotz says. "It's really become a year-round job to organize the festival."

It's because crane festival visitors have come to expect a wide-ranging program. This year, thanks to Sheldon and his staff, they will again be treated to lectures by notable and some nationally renown experts in many types of wildlife - burrowing owls, curlews, even earth worms.

Other scientists will speak on geology, history, agriculture.

The kids' program helps assure the crane festival remains a family event.

The city involvement in festivals and parades is par for the course, from traffic control to portable toilets in the parks, and trash pick-up, Sheldon said.

"The city pays for those things in-house," he said.

The city uses a motel room tax to pay for event services.

"That's money that cannot be used for salaries or police cars, it has to be dedicated to bring in tourism," Sheldon said.

In addition to budgeting for events the year ahead, the city also has a reserve fund.

"That's in case somebody comes up with a new idea for something after the budget's done. To use this reserve fund, we need to validate that (the project/event) meets auditing requirements. Our finance director is responsible for that," he added.

If there was some reluctance among city council members to get the city involved in the crane festival on short notice, in the end there was consensus to keep it viable.

Sheldon looks forward to the festival.

"I like to see the excitement of people on the tours," he said.

Not that he himself is a birder.

"No, my thing is to fish and hunting. I like it where it's nice and quiet, where my cellphone doesn't work," he added.