The Haunts of the Great Blue Heron

Most of us know about the endangered whooping crane and its precarious recovery from near extinction. You can most easily see these white cranes at the Aransas refuge in Texas, where the 150 wild migratory birds that are left spend the winter. It was a surprise to learn that nearly half as many of these magnificent birds are present in central Florida on the Kissimee Prairie.

A local reader and her friend in Florida have provided an article telling of a ten-year project to establish a permanent population of whoopers there. A four-year old pair recently produced two eggs, the first laid in the wild in the United States in 60 years. A new project will begin soon to establish a migratory population of whooping cranes that will leave Florida in the summer to nest in Canada.

Here in New England we very rarely see the only other North American crane, the sandhill crane. This smaller, brown crane is still an abundant bird of the American prairies with a non-migratory population also in Florida. Some someday I hope to hear the bugling cries of many thousands of these cranes rising from the Platte River of Nebraska.

We do have some close cousins of the cranes, the herons and egrets. The largest of these is the great blue heron, which a friend of mine likes to call the "dreaded blue crane." As tall as a man, it is a startling sight, either when standing still in a small stream or puddle, or when in ponderous flight, the great wings slowly beating, like an ancient pterodactyl, a flying contemporary of the dinosaurs.

Some scientists believe that birds are descended from the theocodonts, a group of reptiles that were ancestors to the dinosaurs and pterosaurs. Others believe that birds are descended directly from the coelosaurs, a group of small agile predatory dinosaurs that were very like ostriches.

The herons, cranes, and egrets are an old family, having evolved earlier than most other bird species. The great blue heron certainly gives the impression that it is prehistoric, an emissary from the distant past.

Now is the most likely time that you might run across the great blue heron, for the birds that nest in colonies in the beaver swamps of Massachusetts have dispersed, and are now present almost everywhere. They hunt in the shallow edges of ponds and rivers large or small, or even ditches on the side of highways.

They are prone to fly some distance to a night roost in early evening, so watch the sky if you are relaxing on your deck after dinner. The huge, beating wings are a giveaway, the long legs stretched out behind and the head long and thick, since it is doubled back on itself.

If you want to see this heron close up, drive along Pondside Road in Longmeadow. Stop where the trees open up and scan the marshes. Besides the many ducks and teal there, you will see a stately heron or two. They often perch on a wood duck box or dead tree, but often they are in the shallow water hunting for fish.

When hunting they stand sentinel like, their long necks tilted slightly forward, the heavy long dagger of a bill poised for the strike. Suddenly the neck swings down and strikes the water. Then the head returns erect and triumphant, the fish struggling to escape from the open bill. The heron then juggles it around until the head is first, then swallows it whole in one or a few gulps.

After a meal the heron holds its head tall and proud, looking much like ET, ready to phone home. It can remain perfectly still for many minutes, occasionally turning the massive head on the slim neck so quickly that you have to blink in amazement.

The bird will seem so intent that you might imagine it is listening to some message from its ancestors or descendants. Is this tall, two-legged creature in touch with our past or our future? The bold black and yellow eye can mesmerize us, hinting at secrets we will never know. Put aside the mystery and enjoy the wonder of the truly great blue heron.