Temptation of Life
I began frequenting a heronry in late February. The trees were mostly bare of leaves and the beginnings of nests could easily be seen. Both parents went about their business; the male sat at the nesting site while the female went off in search of sticks. Then they traded places. One such male, whom I decided to call Stick Boy, was a very successful finder of sticks. This bright bird painstakingly went about choosing just the right stick and always greeted by a very appreciative mate. Much squawking and wing flapping would take place and I could almost feel the envy from the other birds the heronry.
The sticks can't just be lying about; they must be plucked from the surrounding tree branches. To do otherwise might alert predators as to where their colony lies mostly hidden. You see, some of the sticks are about 3-4 feet in length, and while herons have pseudo palms, landing becomes a bit tricky if the prize is held anywhere but the beak. Now imagine that - a large bird with a 7 foot wingspan, flying above you with a long stick held tightly in its beak! I remember chuckling the first time I saw one flying overhead, pondering evolution's weird sense of humour: we have a primal need to fly but cannot grow wings whereas some birds, the heron in this case, would benefit greatly with an opposable thumb. It does come close with those freakishly long, thinly tapered toes. Hollywood has never had to go farther than the animal kingdom when it comes to strange, alien-looking claws/feet.
It was obvious to me after a few days that Stick Boy and his bird pals would have to go a bit farther afield if they were to find more choice plucks. And so, one morning just after I'd set up my camera gear, I heard a crack coming from one of the branches in the trees behind me. The conifer was about 30' from where I stood so I quietly changed the angle on my tripod, hoping not to startle the bird. I had decided the day before to try out my new Tamron 150-600mm lens. I was very happy I did so because it brought the heron so much closer and the fine details of his feathers, the golden glint in his eye and the bright orange-red flush of his beak were emblazoned on my brainpan. I watched silently as he picked his way like a man on a tightrope, adding a little hop and flutter of wings when necessary.
It's quite amazing just how agile these large birds are. That something with a 6-7 foot wingspan actually nests in full-grown trees is amazing! I've managed to get as close as 7 feet from a Great Blue Heron so I've been privy to certain aspects of the bird that others might miss. For example, herons have a green tint to their eyelids, which close over the eye from the bottom, not like our eyes, which close from the top down. As I mentioned before, their feet have something that resembles our palm that connects to four long toes that end in claws. I wondered for the longest time prior to ever seeing herons nesting in trees why they would have such strange looking feet. But of course one only has to watch them fly towards their nests to understand. With such large wings it would be near impossible to get close enough to a branch without long legs and 'hands' to grasp in order to fold their long wings in prior to landing.
An eagle is a beautiful spectacle to watch as it soars through the air or swoops down over the water and snags a fish. But to my mind's eye, it is the large, ungainly looking heron that is more fascinating to watch. Their movements are so patient and purposeful as they stalk their prey. However, in my humble opinion, I believe the Turkey Vulture has them both beat as to grace and ability as they ride the thermals. Oh, to be an eagle or a heron! But each is a sworn enemy of the other, which I was not aware of. If you see a heron and an eagle is nearby, you'll see the heron stand watch, it's eyes focused on the whereabouts of the eagle at all times. It's quite common to see eagles attacking heron nests. Repeated attacks have a good chance of driving all the birds to abandon the heronry altogether. This has happened before at Point Holmes. Eagles either smash the eggs or attack the young fledglings, pushing them out of the nest. I've witnessed two such accounts, but luckily, neither ended in chick mortality.
It is impossible for me not to notice the wildlife around me and to try and forge a relationship between us. I always talk to the animal I'm photographing, thanking it when I am done. Life is a spectacle, a circus of variety and temptation. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be an eagle or heron - or a hummingbird.
