I was looking for a glimpse of a great blue heron who once visited this marshy area. This is him about three years ago.
No luck. Just a lot of bullrushes and mist.
Two eagles about half a mile away, reminded me of a poster I saw in the 70s, of two vultures sitting in a snag, looking down at the ground, waiting for something to die.
The caption said, “Patience, my ass! I’m gonna kill something.”
But they were definitely eagles, not vultures. I zoomed in and tried for a shot but it was really far away. Still, I could see that the smaller one was a mature bird while the bigger one was not. They don’t generally get the white feathers on their head until they are in their fifth year. Since the female birds are usually larger than the males, I thought this might be a case of a father and daughter having a conversation.
My daughter you’re a big girl now,
No boyfriends will I yet allow,
But soon you will be old enough,
Make sure the man you choose is tough.
The world out there can be quite harsh,
But keep your eyes upon that marsh,
A crippled bird might try to hide
Behind the rushes at the side.
Be careful when you swoop to kill,
Stay safe so you can eat your fill,
Don’t let the rushes tangle you
And hurt your wings, or that you’ll rue.
I see the heron stalking frogs,
Just at the back behind the logs.
When you fly down he’ll get a scare
And hurry to get out of there.
He knows that we could tear him up,
And then on heron we could sup,
But he’s a watchful kind of guy,
And he can soar up very high.
A heron circles in the sky
Much higher than we eagles fly,
Except for that, he’d be our meal,
You must forget him, no big deal.
For now we’ll take the sickly duck
That’s hiding in that swampy muck,
And we’ll be doing him a favour
As we both enjoy his flavour.