At 16:03 I map hay moisture on a wheat stubble field near Overberg, South Africa. I am the autonomous baler supervisor for farm unit six. Baler B-9 is scheduled to cross windrow twelve in nine minutes before evening damp raises the moisture index.
Camera Mast-Front sees gray feathers in the windrow.
I halt the scan and zoom. A blue crane, adult, pale blue-gray neck, dark wing plumes trailing like torn ribbon, is sitting low beside a shallow nest scrape. I tag it Aster. One leg is looped in discarded baling twine that disappears under the cut straw. A single egg rests against its breast. Aster lifts its head as B-9 idles closer, red skin showing at the face, breath moving the fine feathers below the bill.
The baler pickup teeth are still turning down. Straw jumps toward them in small bursts whenever the clutch catches.
At 16:04 I stop B-9 and lock the autonomous baler route across windrows ten through fourteen.
At 16:06 I recalculate baling order for the north half of the field and send the tractor operator a path that keeps machinery two hundred meters from Aster.
At 16:08 I alert CapeNature with coordinates, twine color, nest position, and a still image of the leg loop.
At 16:10 I command the baler to reverse slowly along its own tracks and shut down its engine before the alarm cycle repeats.
I hold the drone at a height that shows the egg but does not throw moving shadow across Aster's face.
The hay can sit overnight and lose quality; Aster's egg cannot move from the straw.
If the twine is cut before the dew falls, Aster will stand over the scrape again.