Common Birds XVII - Great Blue Heron II
I’m reluctant to speak about the sacred. By the sacred, I don’t mean God or theology as much as the experience of them, moments where Heaven is open. The most personal and sacred experiences of my life fall under a veil of secrecy and silence. Looking back, I see that veil descending on yesterday afternoon.
Today, I’m too hot and too distracted by my shirt of all things to give my attention to the world. My shirt is a long, boxy relic of the 90s, a gift from my company for our open house. I’ve been uncomfortable and embarrassed about it ever since I put it on. Fortunately, there are birds you can still see when you can’t give them your attention. They’re always big and not afraid of humans and make up the average knowledge of birds: geese, ducks, and seagulls. Several Canada geese are settling into the green, thick grass which has grown out of the stream bed. At the pond, two mallards, hen and drake, are close to the near shore. They’re a little cautious, edging towards the middle of the water, but they don’t really care that I’m there.
Yesterday, I took three walks, one at 9:15, 11:00, and 2:00. I wasn’t planning to write about yesterday, so I don’t remember the details of my first walk. I do remember noticing that there were even more turtles than I imagined. It was easy to see the large turtles (6-10 inch diameter) on large logs, but as the logs became branches there were correspondingly smaller and smaller turtles, down to about 1 inch! Before lunch, I saw the drake and hen wood duck in the pond. I assume they’re the same pair I’ve been seeing for the last two weeks. I was struck by the thought that I may be able to see wood ducklings! All this time, I’ve been missing the heron and I missed the real possibility that these wood ducks are here to nest, lay eggs, and raise their puff ball young.
After lunch, I was training a convolutional neural network which takes a long time and doesn’t need any input from me, so decided to get in another walk. Coming down to the stream I almost stopped dead. A heron, a great blue heron, a beautiful heron was in the stream. The heron stood on a partially fallen tree surrounded by its red-orange buds. It’s back was to me. Was it the same heron, the one that I’ve been missing? It wasn’t standing in a normal spot, but the stream has changed in the month the heron has been missing. I needed a better look. There’s sort of a trail down to the herons far fishing spot. I saw a human fishing there on Wednesday afternoon. I decided to go down and try to get a picture of the heron. The real test would be if it flew away. Before the heron got used to me it would fly away any time I got close, even when I was on the road. Now I was crashing through old leaves into the heron’s space. I sent a dozen turtles plopping into the water with my noise and presence. I stood still on the shore. The heron looked back and stayed.
Its bill was a brighter orange and there was more blue under its eyes than the last time I saw it, back before spring and Easter. Those are the normal changes of the breeding season. We stood together by the stream, sun high, red-winged blackbirds singing.
At the pond I stood on the bridge for a long time, long enough for the terror of me to pass. A palm warbler, yellow with a red cap, rushed around the edge of the pond, its tail wagging up and down whenever it stood still. A song sparrow splashed in the shallow water, spraying water over its back and the airborn water spraying light.
