STAFFORD COUNTY — Chances are, you've already heard the early birds — that cacophony of sound as the sun rises and sets in your neighborhood.
Spring birds are singing, whistling and trilling their boasts of new territories and love.
Robins, wrens and finches are calling out and letting you know about the first stirrings of the spring migration.
Turkey vultures are beginning to soar over Kansas skies, as are the first purple martins.
But the best is yet to come.
"My favorite times of the year are spring and fall," said Dr. Dan Witt, a retired urologist from Hoisington.
"And the spring migration is off the chart — and the fall migration rewinds it."
The best place to see both is at Cheyenne Bottoms and Quivira National Wildlife Refuge. More than 320 bird species are typically spotted in the two marshes.
"There's no place like it," said Witt, who was recently named to the Audubon of Kansas board of governors. "No other wetlands have their credentials. No other wetland supports as many species, and it is completely responsible for their survival in their migrations.
"And for Kansas to have them is a gift. And, we have to protect them."
The peak of the spring migration won't be until the last week of April and the first of May.
But some birds — waterfowl like ducks, geese and cranes — have mostly pushed through. On March 14, whooping cranes were briefly spotted at Cheyenne Bottoms.
Still others are just beginning — like belted kingfishers, bluebirds and shorebirds.
But one of Witt's favorite sounds is when sandhill cranes call to one another.
"Sandhill cranes come by the thousands and end up in the Platte River in Nebraska and the reverse happens in September, October and November," said Witt, a wildlife photographer and founder of a newsletter called "Marsh Musings."
For a short window of time, Witt says the sandhill cranes are most likely seen at Quivira and Cheyenne Bottoms, which are about 50 miles apart in central Kansas.
As for the sandhill cranes, sometimes as many as several thousand temporarily rest there as a midway stopping point on their migration journeys.
"The sandhill [call] is haunting and lovely and impressive," Witt said. "It's a squawk with a rasp. It's awful if you are standing right next to it.
"When they're flying 1,000 feet or higher in the air ... and they are gliding almost silently and they are talking to each other, it's a beautiful, peaceful conversation that everybody in the world should hear at least once."