The Great Blue Heron

This bird has always meant mystery to me. Sighting one was like seeing a prehistoric pterodactyl or something. And the solitary nature of the bird meant we rarely saw one, and if we did, it kept its distance. Not so anymore.

A few years ago we spent a thrilling spring day trekking through a farmer's field back to a bush filled with heron nests up in the tops of the trees. As we walked the wondrous birds were flying to and from the nests, anxious to fill the hungry mouths waiting for them. We could hear the raucous sound of their cries from time to time, but for the most part, the giants glided soundlessly over our heads, probably wondering if we were something to eat or something to fear. I tried to take pictures because I was so anxious to capture my excitement but I knew my camera just couldn't do the job. I have lots of shots of birds in the far distant sky, but none that accurately show the scene I remember from that day.

On a houseboat trip on Pigeon Lake, we were also thrilled to catch a silvery blue-grey heron alone, silent and watchful on a fencepost jutting out of the water. In my mind's eye, I can picture the heron standing on one leg, but wonder if time and memory have blurred to edit my imprint. No matter. They are majestic creatures both ways.

Just a few weeks ago, I stopped my gardening to walk to the end of the drive and chat with a neighbour out for his morning walk. It was a beautiful day and a friendly chat, but suddenly Keith's attention moved away from my face. "Look on your roof!" I turned in time to see a king-size heron walking about on my roof ridge, looking for all the world like that was not my roof but his fiefdom. As we drank him in, he spread his wide, bent wings and, dragging his feet beneath him, took off into the sky. Like Santa waving from his sleigh, the great giant circled overhead as though to say 'good-bye' to his admiring audience, and then gracefully dipped his wings into the distance. We ogled, and then finally were able to talk again, although nothing we said could equal the thrilling flight of my heart.

Yes, the planet is changing and often not in a good way, but this change seems positive. We do see more herons. Hopefully that means there are more of them around, making the happy sighting of them more likely to occur. Check out that noisy scratching on your roof. It might be a wonderful great blue heron.