The last few mornings, the sunlight has been bathing the bare maple treetops in orange–just for a few moments, but brilliantly.
This morning, we heard a plane outside the window and watched for it to pass by, but instead a heron soared. Later, I saw a heron settle into a treetop across the ravine, and studied him for some time through my little binoculars. I felt so thrilled to see this bird; the herons are masters at camouflage, even in the bare limbs of the maples.
Silly me thinking I was so visually astute. After awhile, an entire swarm of herons arose from the maples, and scurried across the sky, startled by something, or wary of some sound. Their large, dark bodies fly off in close formation, like a moving, beating cloud, then circle across the canal and double-back into the ravine, to settle once again–invisibly–into the treetops.
I counted 21 on their first pass, and when ten minutes later they once again took off in wariness, I counted 25.
My skies will be blessed with these Great Blue Herons for the next several months. For the first few weeks we will watch them break branches from the trees and build nests. Then they will mate and lay eggs and roost. Before I know it, the air will bloom with chicks squawking for meals, and the sky will be constantly decorated with dutiful heron parents.
I can hardly believe this all happens in my backyard.
