Yesterday a magnificent Great Blue Heron (the nickname for members of this species is Old Joe) strolled across our yard with slow, intentional steps. I sneaked out the other side of the house and found an unobtrusive spot where I could monitor his activity through the camera lens. By the time I stood in position to take pictures, he was already on our pier craning his very long neck and eyeing the shallows for minnows.
He ambled slowly down the pier with his stilt-like legs, gazing first to one side and then the other, taking his time, watching for anything of interest. The style of walk, in case you’ve not seen a heron on foot, is almost a gangly strut reminiscent of long-legged male teenagers with their hands in their pockets, acting cool.
Eventually he stopped at the end of the pier and I stalked him, slinking around the edge of the deck, daring to move just a little closer. He eyed me warily with his almost-flat head turned to one side, bent his toothpick-legs and crouched. Then he shifted his weight to make ready for take-off, spread his massive wings, and swooped away in a low glide over the water.
This Old Joe is one of many in our area that live in the wild. They fascinate me, both on land and in the air. They are quiet and unassuming, not quarrelsome with other waterfowl, and seem introspective and serious by nature. Elegant in flight, they are precise fishermen. Their feathers are a regal-looking smoky-blue.
I feel privileged this Old Joe came for a visit, and will look forward to his return another day.
1 comment:
The pictures of the blue heron brought back fond memories of our years near the lake. We were never sure which one of the pair we were seeing. I believe we named "ours" Paul and Pauline.
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