Grand Island & Red Cloud, Neb. — Nebraska may seem an unlikely place for a lifelong Northeasterner to fulfill her dreams. But in March, out on the far-flung horizons of the flatlands, two of mine came true.
My husband and I arrived in Lincoln on a sunny, warm day and headed out the interstate to Grand Island, a modest city that gained its improbable name for its location between the Platte and Wood Rivers. Grand Island and Kearney, 40 miles to the west, are meccas for a very particular kind of seeker — call us tourists if you must. Every spring, a dazzling American nature spectacle takes place on this stretch of the Platte: it’s the main North American way station for the great sandhill crane migration.
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