Finally I see it! When I least expect it. What a wonderfully surprising and majestic sight is the great heron. One to be treasured in the memory.
For the first half hour, I am preoccupied. Too busy with matters of mundane mortality to observe the activity around me. It is a warm afternoon in early June. I am enjoying the fresh air, but my mind is elsewhere. Suddenly, out of the adjacent undergrowth, a bird flies out, right in front of me. It perches on a nearby tree and stays there, sounding its continuous warning. I am the intruder. She is protecting her young, concealed nearby.
Further along the valley, a strikingly beautiful bird, with bright red markings, is joined by its mate of more modest coloring. Their songs are different, too. Their mission is shared. What a picture of familial fidelity they present.
Later, I disturb a pair of mallards, with three tiny ducklings scarcely bigger than the eggs they have so recently left. Off goes the family to the sounds of insistent parental urging, the youngsters being guided to safety.
Across the water, a couple of Canadian geese guard three fluffy goslings, the parents evidently alert to signs of danger.
I reach the edge of the enclosed nesting area, secured for the great blue heron colony. I sit on the bench and watch. I wait patiently hoping to see one.
It’s an alternative drama that unfolds in this glimmering, green theater around me. Rustling softly in the breeze, the trees and grasses set the stage. The sun is shining between the clouds. Delicate wild flowers add their touch of gentleness. The water is resting, quieted by a beaver dam.
The staging, the design, the lighting, the orchestration, the choreography, the direction, the performance, all are exquisite. The birds, in richly varied forms, in costumes of vibrant hues, move in a variety of gracious styles and motions, producing music and dance of surpassing beauty. I am enthralled.
Each chorister has its own distinctive tone and melody. Together, they join in harmonious praise to their Creator.
Forgetting about the herons, I move on, strolling past the beaver lodge, savoring the continuing pageant of glorious sights and sounds.
I’m well past the designated colony area. I’m no longer looking for it when it finally appears. There it is! The great blue heron flies gracefully among the trees. It really does exist. It’s not just something I’ve read about, looked for, waited for and hoped to see. When I’ve almost given up hope, when I’m in an area I don’t expect to find it, there comes the crowning touch.
So many exhortations in just one hour.
I come upon mute testimony to earlier human habitation. Dilapidated ranch buildings provide a forlorn reminder this was cattle country years ago. Homes built by men have decayed. Bird’s nests and beaver lodges are as good as new. The chatter of the ranch hands has long since been silenced. The birds sing on.
The clouds have moved in. It’s raining gently as I walk home. The earth is being renewed; and so am I.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One