I have always thought of the Great Blue Heron as my totem animal. I grew up in a creaky old wooden house on the sheltered slope of a hill above the sea. On a really low minus tide the water would recede far enough down the rocky beach to reveal a section of pure sand - a rarity in Haines, Alaska. A tide low enough to reveal this sandy beach only happened a few times a year during daylight hours and was always a cause for excitement.
One of my earliest memories is of an expedition to the beach on a low minus tide to look for things in the tidepools and beach comb. My father derives great pleasure from finding flotsam and jetsam and brings the choicest artifacts up to join a carefully curated collection of interesting junk. Us kids derived great pleasure from finding ribbon worms and other truly alien creatures exposed by the low tide.
On this particular trip, a Great Blue Heron was stalking the tide pools. I clearly remember slowly sneaking up on it, going from boulder to boulder as I went down the beach until I reached the edge of the slimy seaweed and algae-covered rocks and stepped foot onto the clean pure dark gray sand.
Another step closer on the wet sand.
There was nothing between us and I remember the feeling of surprise and fear when the Heron stepped up out of the tide pool toward me. It was much taller than I was. It had a long sharp beak. It cocked its head back and fixed me with a look that told me I was in danger. I ran back up the beach to my parents.
By the way, do you want to go exploring in the tide pools of southeast Alaska? Take a moment when you have it to look through this amazing field guide to common seashore animals of Southeastern Alaska - this is a 170 page .pdf with original photography by Aaron Baldwin - it is really cool! Looking through it tonight really brought back some childhood memories. But I digress.
Since 2001 I have lived in the Eugene / Springfield area on the Willamette River in Oregon. There is a healthy population of Great Blue Herons here as well. I used to bike to work daily along the river bike path from Springfield to Eugene. I have a long standing rule that when I see a heron while biking, I have to stop my bike and meditate on the heron for at least a few minutes. No exceptions, no excuses.
I have spent many hours meditating on Great Blue Herons while they hunt. They will remain motionless for long periods of time before exploding into action after a fish. They do not walk they glide. Each step they take while in the water is a slow motion ballet, a careful elongated reach out with one leg at a time before easing each step into the water. The body seems to levitate along in an undulating dance while these long strides cover distance without making a splash. This is the ministry of silly walks elevated to a sublime art form.
The day before Thing One's 3rd birthday, right around the same age I was when I had my formative encounter with a heron, I took the Things and Yeti the Dog on a walk right before dusk. As we approached Island Park I spotted a heron fishing in the mill race to the right of the path. I knew it would fly away as we approached it, so I got my camera out and started filming as we got close. It did not move. I knew instantly something was wrong with it. It had already let me get too close, too close with a dog, too close with a big noisy double stroller and two noisy kids. I set the brake on the stroller and told Yeti to stay while I tried to get a better look. I could see a wing feather sticking straight out from the side of its wing. Instead of flying away it waded to the other side of the mill race and croaked at me. I jumped when it croaked at me.
After I said goodbye to the heron and told it I hoped it was okay, I turned off the camera and returned to the stroller. The heron looked at me from the other bank for a moment before wading back across to the near bank. It came back closer to me. It looked me in the eye and I can swear to you that it asked me to help it.
For the next half hour I tried to get a hold of someone or someplace who could help. Police non-emergency line referred me to Fish and Wildlife who referred me to a local animal rescue agency that was closed. I knew the Cascades Raptor Center took in injured raptors exclusively but I called them anyway.
I actually got through to somebody at the raptor center; I spoke to a volunteer whose name I do not remember now. By this time the light was beginning to fail and I was told that a capture in the dark of a heron was too dangerous to attempt. She asked me if I could possibly return to the area in the morning and attempt to locate the heron, and if I did they would send someone to assess the situation and capture it for rehab if necessary (I was told they partnered with a rescue agency in another city an hour away that did rehabilitate herons).
The heron made quite an impression on Thing One. We talked about it all evening. I do not usually pray but I sent a prayer to the heron before I fell asleep. I raced back to the park in the morning. I did not see it in the same place. I had a cold feeling that I was going to stumble upon its body in the grass as I slowly traced both banks. But no, in a few minutes I saw it a little farther downstream fishing at a place where the water pools up before a miniature rapids into another pool.
I called the raptor center and they told me their wildlife vet was on the way and would call my cell phone for directions once at the park. A few minutes later the noise of my cell phone ringing startled the heron, and to my surprise, it... flew upstream. It only flew a short distance, directly back to the same spot I first saw it the night before. But it flew. I wondered if I had wasted everyone's time.
I met the wildlife vet in the parking lot. She introduced herself as Uli and we shared a laugh over the fact that I was wearing a Cascades Raptor Center sweatshirt (my wife used to volunteer there many years ago and it is my favorite hooded sweatshirt).
I told Uli that the heron had just flown and pointed out where it was. She took a large towel and a net with a long telescoping handle out of the trunk of her car and we walked over toward the heron. It again let us approach quite close. Uli said this is definitely not normal behavior. She referred to the heron as a "he". She said she wanted to get a better look at his wing injury. She moved very slowly and carefully, keeping her body turned sideways to the bird. She slowly, slowly reached the net out. The heron flew off down stream back to the fishing spot I had just spooked him from.
Uli told me that it was a good sign he could fly for at least short distances, but a bad sign that he was allowing humans to approach that close. She asked me if I could keep an eye on him for a few days and told me to call the raptor center back if he appeared to be getting worse. I told her that I could definitely do that.
For the next week I visited this heron every morning. I usually found him at the downstream fishing spot. I tried to be respectful and not get too close, but still get close enough to get a good look at his condition. By the second day he did not mind my presence any more. He looked up when I approached but did not ruffle a feather before returning his attention to the water. He allowed me to come down to the water's edge. I know he recognized me. At first I was still pretty worried about his health. Could he really get enough to eat, in the middle of the winter, fishing in this tiny little mill race?
I saw him catch some small fish. I took quite a bit of footage. Just past the five minute mark of this clip the heron catches and eats a tiny little fish:
This did not make me feel better. I believe I took that clip on the third day of observing the heron and had spent about 2 hours total watching it to that point, and had only seen it catch three tiny little fish.
On the fourth day I am amazed to say that I managed to catch a video clip of it catching and eating a very meaty 12" trout! You seriously have to see this video clip if you have not already. Sorry I can't embed it here, as far as I can tell there is no way to get a D-tube video to play within a post.
I have to say watching this happen right in front of me was really incredible and also very eye-opening as far as just how effective of a predator a heron really is. I have spent a lot of time watching herons but never from so close before. They are really impressive.
After eating that huge trout the heron drank some water:
And preened for the camera:
On the seventh day I had Yeti and the Things with me again for the first time while visiting the heron. As we approached he took off in flight, but this time he flew low up the mill race, up and over his normal "other spot", circled up and over the park and flew across the main channel of the river to the trees on the far side where I saw him alight.
Yay! He is getting better!
I saw him once or twice more after that in the next weeks. It has now been about two weeks since I saw him last. I know this is a good sign. But I am very thankful for the week that I got to spend getting to know this amazing creature.
Much love - Carl
All photography and videos in this post are my own original work except the photo of Dr. Streicher.
