Today, an unexpected Great Blue Heron flew toward me. These big birds are solitary, so I figured he’d veer away when he realized the beach he’d intended to land on was occupied.
Maybe he had poor vision (unlikely in a bird designed for fishing and frogging), or maybe he didn’t care. I thought of an F-18 dropping onto the deck of a carrier. Getting bigger, almost hovering, then down.
The heron tucked its wings and stood unusually close. I waited for him to realize his mistake and leave. But he didn’t want to move just yet. My being there didn’t matter. This bird would stand his ground.
A Great Blue Heron is described in the two-fisted novel, “Cold Mountain.” Charles Frazier’s writing is memorable. Here are some of his words:
“The heron made tiny precise adjustments of his narrow head as if having trouble sighting around his blade of beak…he was a solitary pilgrim, strange in his ways and governed by no policy or creed common to flocking birds..”
“…no policy or creed common to flocking birds…” Good stuff, strong and true. Here’s more:
“…then the heron slowly opened its wings. The process was carried out as if it were a matter of hinges and levers, cranks and pulleys. All the long bones under feathers and skin were much in evidence….”
While I was thinking about these words, especially “cranks and pulleys,” the bird did that. He opened his wings, maybe deciding he’d had enough of me.
As I looked at him, I figured: words don’t do the job. Even if they’re written by a guy like Frazier. This is something you gotta see.
The heron took off. Wings as big as eagle wings. Maybe six feet across. Big enough to lift that long-legged, long-necked bird with no effort.
He banked away from me and headed someplace along the shore to hunt in privacy. But he’d stayed for a while. He made his point, and now it was okay to leave.
Your wonderful story reminded me of a similar occurrence about 10 years ago. I was standing at the end of a dock dressed in earth tones with a green beret. A bird flew straight at me and just before he landed on my head, I realized it was a Kingfisher.
I have no idea how long he would have stayed there if I hadn’t started giggling!
Thanks for sharing,
Beth
For a very different Cold Mountain run a search on “Cold Mountain Poems + Gary Snyder”.
Han Shan (Cold Mountain) was, basically, the father of Zen Buddhism. Might be of interest to some folks here…
That heron description from Cold Mountain is one of my all-time favorite book passages. My other favorite is from Arthur C. Clarke’s short story “Rescue Party.” Not about birds, but it is two-fisted:
…..”I feel rather afraid of these people. Suppose they don’t like our little Federation?” He waved once more toward the star-clouds…glowing with the light of countless suns. “Something tells me they’ll be very determined people….We had better be polite to them. After all, we only outnumber them about a thousand million to one.” Rugon laughed at his captain’s little joke. Twenty years afterward, the remark didn’t seem funny.