I do Love my Herons

[JIMBO]

Thought I would give you guys a break form my Landscapes. Still many to process form this week. Went out early this morning and took a picture of this guy. Shot is my Sigma 70-200 [at 200 and cropped] I was about 30 - 40 feet away when I took these shots. JIM

[Ron Kruger]

Good shots, Jim. I like herons too. Here's my contribution to this thread.

[Mike Pearson]

Great shots Jim, it's been a while since we saw your friends 

Mike

[Mike Pearson]

Ron,

Excellent capture 

Mike

[JIMBO]

Good shots, Jim. I like herons too. Here's my contribution to this thread

Awesome Heron shot Ron. I have a few catching fish too. JIM

PS: Thanks Mike. JIM

[Ron Kruger]

I greatly admire blue herons and can remember when seeing one was tantamount to spotting a bald eagle or whooping crane. Yes, I’m old–so what.
They’re very common now, and I see them all the time on rivers, lakes, ponds and swamps, and I still admire them. On foggy mornings, one standing on a small point in the soft rays of early light presents a statuesque poses that epitomizes all that’s natural and wild and good.
Interesting birds. The ones poking around on the more northern latitudes are not as colorful as the ones in Florida. They call them the same, but ours are all blue, with no other colors of ornamental plumage.
I still stop fishing or whatever I’m doing once in a while to watch one fish, impersonating a perfectly motionless piece of driftwood, or blending in with the color of the sky or whatever so completely that small fish will swim right under their watchful and patient eye. And then they stab with the speed of a cobra and pluck the pitiable prize of protein from the water. They always catch their small fish sideways in the tips of their long beaks, then toss them slightly one or three times to turn them for swallowing, which they do whole and quickly. You can even see the still wiggling fish sliding down their throats with a lowering bulge.
They are handsome birds from a distance, with an impressive wingspan and a graceful (but usually short) flight, and they seem to be smart enough to avoid close contact with mankind. Normally they will fly away before any human gets within casting distance, always squawking a loud and primitive-sounding protest.
But up close they are one of the most disgusting creatures to inhabit the third rock from the sun, and I’m about to confess to you how I know that.
I caught one by accident one time while fishing during the winter. Instead of just flying away and giving me a scolding for invading his territory,  this one just stood there at the water's edge. So I thought I would bounce my weedless (where the hook is not exposed) plastic worm off its back, just to teach it a lesson to stay away from humans.
When I cast the worm, it bounced off his back alright, but at the same time the heron flapped its wings and became tangled in the fishing line. I had to reel him in, which is no small feat with such a large bird, and I was glad no one else was out and about to witness this embarrassing (and possibly illegal) predicament.
He made noises a prehistoric pterodactyl would have envied and tried with every move I made to impale me upon the tip of his beak. His striking distance was longer than my arms, and I was glad to have the extra thick layers of winter clothing to absorb the strikes, while keeping my face beyond his range.
The monofilament wasn’t that badly tangled, but all my efforts to unwrap it while at the same time dogging this spear with nostrils were proving futile, and his loud mouth up close was making me nervous.
Finally I grabbed his weapon, like a fencer deflecting a lunge. I held his beak in one hand, and with some effort un-looped the line with the other. He took off unharmed, but much wiser.
During the ordeal, however, I learned that blue herons are pigs with wings. They stink like a dead fish mixed with bird excrement, and up close the skin under their feathers looks like it’s spotted with their own droppings in which lice and other vermin find comfortable lodging. They seemed to be upset by this ordeal as well.
It was so bad that even though the fishing was good, I went home to take a shower.
No wonder I’ve never seen a blue heron in any of the petting zoos that try to present wild animals as if they were Disney characters. No wonder I’ve never heard of anyone trying to make a pet of a wild heron, and it may be why they are such solitary creatures.
I still greatly admire these birds and would surely miss the esthetics they add to outdoor experiences, but while I was trying to teach this one a lesson to avoid close contact with people, he taught me to avoid close contact with herons.

[JIMBO]

I greatly admire blue herons and can remember when seeing one was tantamount to spotting a bald eagle or whooping crane. Yes, I’m old–so what.
They’re very common now, and I see them all the time on rivers, lakes, ponds and swamps, and I still admire them. On foggy mornings, one standing on a small point in the soft rays of early light presents a statuesque poses that epitomizes all that’s natural and wild and good.
Interesting birds. The ones poking around on the more northern latitudes are not as colorful as the ones in Florida. They call them the same, but ours are all blue, with no other colors of ornamental plumage.
I still stop fishing or whatever I’m doing once in a while to watch one fish, impersonating a perfectly motionless piece of driftwood, or blending in with the color of the sky or whatever so completely that small fish will swim right under their watchful and patient eye. And then they stab with the speed of a cobra and pluck the pitiable prize of protein from the water. They always catch their small fish sideways in the tips of their long beaks, then toss them slightly one or three times to turn them for swallowing, which they do whole and quickly. You can even see the still wiggling fish sliding down their throats with a lowering bulge.
They are handsome birds from a distance, with an impressive wingspan and a graceful (but usually short) flight, and they seem to be smart enough to avoid close contact with mankind. Normally they will fly away before any human gets within casting distance, always squawking a loud and primitive-sounding protest.
But up close they are one of the most disgusting creatures to inhabit the third rock from the sun, and I’m about to confess to you how I know that.
I caught one by accident one time while fishing during the winter. Instead of just flying away and giving me a scolding for invading his territory,  this one just stood there at the water's edge. So I thought I would bounce my weedless (where the hook is not exposed) plastic worm off its back, just to teach it a lesson to stay away from humans.
When I cast the worm, it bounced off his back alright, but at the same time the heron flapped its wings and became tangled in the fishing line. I had to reel him in, which is no small feat with such a large bird, and I was glad no one else was out and about to witness this embarrassing (and possibly illegal) predicament.
He made noises a prehistoric pterodactyl would have envied and tried with every move I made to impale me upon the tip of his beak. His striking distance was longer than my arms, and I was glad to have the extra thick layers of winter clothing to absorb the strikes, while keeping my face beyond his range.
The monofilament wasn’t that badly tangled, but all my efforts to unwrap it while at the same time dogging this spear with nostrils were proving futile, and his loud mouth up close was making me nervous.
Finally I grabbed his weapon, like a fencer deflecting a lunge. I held his beak in one hand, and with some effort un-looped the line with the other. He took off unharmed, but much wiser.
During the ordeal, however, I learned that blue herons are pigs with wings. They stink like a dead fish mixed with bird excrement, and up close the skin under their feathers looks like it’s spotted with their own droppings in which lice and other vermin find comfortable lodging. They seemed to be upset by this ordeal as well.
It was so bad that even though the fishing was good, I went home to take a shower.
No wonder I’ve never seen a blue heron in any of the petting zoos that try to present wild animals as if they were Disney characters. No wonder I’ve never heard of anyone trying to make a pet of a wild heron, and it may be why they are such solitary creatures.
I still greatly admire these birds and would surely miss the esthetics they add to outdoor experiences, but while I was trying to teach this one a lesson to avoid close contact with people, he taught me to avoid close contact with herons.

Old wise one. Great story and like you when I see a Heron I have to stop and watch them. Cheers mate. JIM

[Ron Kruger]

Here's one more heron. I'm planning to leave tomorrow for a camping trip on the Blue Ribbon Trout Water of the Eleven Point. Be back late next week.

[JIMBO]

Now that's a great shot Ron. Have a safe trip. Cheers and thank you for all your help. JIM

[scott-devon]

Verynice shots Jim. Ron.... Great story!

[Ozzi-Paul]

Nice Heron shots Jim. I have the Siggy 70-200 as well and find it to be a great lens, very happy with it.