Our backyard pond, like any other, provides a smorgasbord of seafood for a variety of hungry predators that prowl the banks and shallows of this watery buffet. Bluegill sunfish, bass, small fry, tadpoles, frogs and an occasional muskrat are all on the menu when it comes to breakfast, lunch and dinner offerings.
And fish dinners are the preference of many of our birds of prey, especially when it comes to open rivers and bays with eagles and ospreys leading the charge. But those broad, swooping attacks on smaller ponds and lakes are not practical, leaving the winged predators on those bodies of water to kingfishers, egrets, cormorants, and, especially, herons.
Foremost among these is the great blue heron, a huge, gawky wading bird whose appearance suggests it likely evolved from the Jurassic period’s pterodactyl dinosaur. And when it comes to devouring the sunfish that reside in our pond, it has no rivals. After all, it’s the largest of North American herons with a head to tail length of 36 to 54 inches, a height of 45 to 54 inches, a wingspan of 66 to 79 inches, and can reach up to 8 pounds in weight.
When stalking finny pond prey this heron, aka Ardea Herodias, will wade the shallows while keeping as motionless as a statue until a fish or frog strays within striking range. At that point the heron reacts in a flash, it’s neck and head thrusting toward the targeted quarry as its long, dagger-like bill spears or grabs the ill-fated sunfish or bullfrog which will soon find itself sliding down the hungry heron’s ample throat.
I’m motivated to feature the great blue in my column today due to a series of close encounters with a juvenile heron that’s set up shop on our backyard pond this past week. Normally, any adult heron that visits our pond will take flight and head out to parts unknown the moment I step out on our back deck which overlooks the pond. And anytime I might approach the pond, adult herons will take off post-haste (and even post-hastier if my springer spaniel is with me).
But the heron hanging out in my back yard this past week or two appears to be a rather bold, uninitiated youngster, it’s thin body much sleeker than a full-grown adult and lacking the majestic plumage that marks the mature heron. The other day I stood on the dock tossing pellets of fish food into the pond where thick schools of feeding bluegills and a few largemouth bass began breaking the surface in a rush to get their share. They were joined by a mud-encrusted snapping turtle that also resides in the pond.
As I walked back toward the house, the young heron immediately appeared on the dock, watching dozens of fish in a feeding frenzy only a few feet in front of him. The stimulus of so many sunfish splashing and thrashing just out of reach was too much for this guy to resist, but I was surprised to see him launch himself head first into the water in a futile attempt to grab a quick fish sandwich. He tried this clumsy tactic two more times and came up empty both times.
And while his dock-diving attempts were fruitless, earlier I had seen him pluck a rather large bluegill from the shallows in the more traditional heron hunting style of wading, freezing, and thrusting. The next day the big bird showed up again. Seeing the chance for a photo-op, I grabbed my camera fitted with a powerful telephoto lens and slowly made my way toward the bird as he again claimed dominion over the dock as if he owned it.
Turns out I really wouldn’t need a telephoto lens to capture multiple images of this fearless heron in action as he allowed me to approach within ten feet of him while he studied the surface of the pond searching for his next piscine victim. He seemed indifferent to my presence up to a point, but when I took a few steps closer he took off from the dock and merely glided to the opposite bank where he settled in among the cattail reeds and resumed his hunting posture.
Then on Thursday Chad Turpin of Turpin Landscape Design stopped by to check out the pond prior to starting the pond improvement project I’ve hired his company to perform in a few weeks. The improvements will include replacing the dock, dredging, and lining part of the bank with boulders and fresh landscaping. And of course, Mr. blue heron was on hand to accompany Turpin and me as we examined the old dock, walked the banks, and discussed the details of the project. Turpin, whose company specializes in enhancing ponds, pond cleanouts and water gardens, acknowledged what a menace these herons pose to many of his customers’ ponds. These birds are especially a threat to smaller, decorative ponds where fish like ornamental koi, large goldfish, and sometimes catfish are particularly vulnerable to these hungry, hungry herons.
On smaller ponds folks often take measures to protect their fishy resources. Most common among these is to string fishing lines in spiderweb fashion back and forth above the pond to discourage herons from depleting their resident fish population. Sometimes these tactics work, sometimes, not so much. Our own pond boasts plenty of bluegills, so I’m not too worried about heron activity doing too much damage to the piscine population and, in fact, it probably wouldn’t hurt for the heron depredation to thin the herd a bit.
But that afternoon, this young heron pulled a bizarre, inexplicable stunt, made evident when my startled daughter called out from her study alarmed that a very large bird had landed on the front deck directly on the other side of her sliding glass door, a heronic move that sent her caged pet conure into a panic. In response I went to her room and slightly cracked the door open. Sure enough, there was the great blue heron, perched on the railing a few feet away. When I opened the door, a few lazy wingbeats lifted him up over my head and onto the roof where he made himself comfortably at home with no apparent intention of going anywhere else anytime soon.
To what could I attribute this very strange, un-heronlike behavior? The only plausible explanation was that this heron must be our spirit animal. A spirit animal, as some native Americans once believed, is an animal that was in reality a spiritual guide or totem taking the form of an animal, in our case this pushy great blue heron. Yes, that must be it – a spirit animal.
Either that or he was just looking for another fishy handout.
Tom Tatum is the outdoors columnist for the MediaNews Group. You can reach him at tatumt2@yahoo.com.
Source: Berkshire mont
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