A Thousand Cranes

Since moving to Bear Lake, I’ve accidentally become a bit of a bird nerd.

It started with the eagles. I’ve seen more bald eagles in the past year than in the rest of my life combined. And there were a couple of owls—rare sightings, but thrilling every time. Of course, the hummingbirds are due to return soon, like tiny caffeinated helicopters. Even the magpies, who are frankly bullies, are hard to dislike once you notice their sharp black-and-white design.

Right about now is when the sandhill cranes start showing up. They’re tall, prehistoric-looking birds with a call that sounds like something between a trumpet and a dinosaur. Once you hear it, you won’t forget it. And once you see them walking across a field, slow and deliberate, they look like they’ve been doing exactly that for about a million years.

Last year, while looking up information about cranes, I stumbled into something unexpected: crane symbolism. In Japan, cranes represent peace, healing, and hope. That seems like a pretty good set of things to aim for.

There’s also a tradition called senbazuru—folding 1,000 origami cranes to bring about a wish or one’s heart’s desire. On a whim (which is how most of my projects begin), I decided to try it.

I started folding on my 59th birthday at the end of July. Over the next six months I folded cranes whenever I had a few quiet minutes—at the dining table, during slow afternoons. Sometimes while listening to music or a podcast, but usually in silence with just the thoughts in my head.

It turns out folding the same small shape over and over again is a surprisingly good meditation practice, especially for someone like me who isn’t very good at just sitting still.

I folded the thousandth crane on my last day of work before retirement at the end of January. The tradition says the cranes help bring about your heart’s desire.

I’m not saying that’s what happened… but the timing was suspiciously good.

At the moment, there are three cloth baskets in my living room filled to the brim with paper cranes. It looks a little like a very quiet flock waiting for instructions.

Now comes the next phase.

I’ve started leaving them behind in places I visit. A couple rode the economy parking lot shuttle with us during a trip to Hawaii last month. One was left in the airport. Another at our hotel.

The idea is simple: a small, unexpected object that might make someone pause for a second. Maybe smile. Maybe look up what it means. A tiny interruption in someone’s day.

Peace. Healing. Hope.

Those seem like helpful things to scatter around right now. If you ever find a tiny folded crane somewhere unexpected, it might be one of mine. Or maybe someone else had the same idea. Either way, I like the thought of a quiet little network of cranes traveling the world, one pocket at a time.

And if you're local and want to see the real thing, the sandhill cranes should be arriving soon at the Bear Lake National Wildlife Refuge. Highly recommended.

If you're thinking about folding 1,000 cranes

If the idea of folding a thousand cranes sounds a little ridiculous… it kind of is.

But it’s also surprisingly calming. One fold at a time, one crane at a time.

If you’re curious, here are the things that helped me get started:

• Simple video tutorial: Tavin's Origami Instructions [Crane]

• Origami paper I used: In solid colors and washi patterns (5 square inches, 500 sheets per box)

• A beautiful book about the practice of folding 1,000 cranes (highly recommended if you’re considering the full senbazuru journey): Senbazuru: One Thousand Steps to Happiness, Fold by Fold