January 5, 10:30 am, we pulled out for an overnight trip to Decatur, Al, and Wheeler National Wildlife Refuge. We expect to see Sandhill Cranes by the thousands and hope to see a few Whooping Cranes. We planned a different route, starting on I-40 W to Peavine exit, then 127 S to Jasper, TN where we pick up 1-24 W for one exit to S. Pittsburg. This would take us completely around Chattanooga. From S. Pittsburg we would continue through Scottsboro to Huntsville and Decatur. Our intention was to have lunch in S. Pittsburg and maybe visit the Lodge (cast iron) factory store. Unfortunately, at Dunlap, TN, we stayed on 127 instead of diverting to TN 28S. Inattention to detail!. We wondered at the steep winding ride over the ridge and didn't realize our error until we were almost to Signal Mountain, just outside of Chattanooga. We had to travel down the steep and winding highway down from Signal Mtn to Chattanooga. The extra miles added almost an hour to our trip. Nevertheless we made it to S. Pittsburg for a late lunch at a local Italian cafe on the main street.
After lunch we skipped the Lodge store and continued on to the refuge. We got there after 3:30 local time and had about an hour. Thousands of Sandhill Cranes were milling about, feeding and sounding their beautiful, musical warble. None were close to the observation areas. We were told that there were three Whooping Cranes but they did not show themselves. Since our last visit, a new viewing blind has been added and paths upgraded. The Visitor Center is still closed for upgrades.
We stayed at the Best Western River City and ate at Logan's Roadhouse next door. Dessert was a bottle of champagne back in the room to toast my birthday.
January 6 - Epiphany and my Birthday!
January 6, 1952, as my mother labored to deliver me into this world, my father was in California about to board a ship for Korea and the "conflict." His unit of the Mississippi National Guard had been called up. He had applied for an essential worker deferment as a farmer. He could have also qualified for a hardship deferment because his father was very ill and his two brothers were too young to manage the farm. His duffel bag was already on the ship when the orders cam through and he was sent home. My whole life turned on that event. My mother planned to name me Jane Clare, but her mother wanted to name me Jane Clark, and she prevailed. I am named for my maternal great-grandmother, Nellie Jane McLaughlin Farrar and my maternal grandfather, Buford Clark Westmoreland who went by Clark. My grandmother also insisted on calling me by my full double name, a very southern thing.
We went back to the refuge Friday morning and saw the Whooping Cranes among the countless Sandhills. Even from a great distance, they stand out by their size and color. I have not tired of the thrill of seeing these magnificent birds.
On the way home, we stopped at the Lodge store and bought a small pan that I will use for bread-baking. The drive home through the Sequatchie Valley was much easier that yesterday's route and very scenic.
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