One of the things that really struck me about this area is the wildlife. You can see bald eagles by the bridge, deer and bear crossing the highway, flocks of pelicans as of a few years ago, and countless other critters everywhere you turn.
During my first few friendless weeks here driving that stretch of highway I spotted a big ass bird standing in the ditch by the side of the road. I watched him as I drove past and he just stood there, still as a statue until I went by. Then in my rearview mirror I saw him dart his head into the water in the ditch and pop back up. Now I don't know what he was fishing for but he got something pretty satisfying from the way he looked around afterwards as if to say "Did you see that shit? Yeah, that's right!"
Well I was pretty sure I knew what he was and I confirmed it when I saw another big ass bird like him and my wife ID'd it as a heron. Super cool and really a surprisingly graceful bird for being so awkwardly tall.
Over the next months I found myself looking for this heron every time I drove by that spot. Sometimes he would be there, sometimes not. Usually he was in the same water-filled ditch (it's wet here most of the year) but sometimes he would be up the road a ways. A couple times I had to slow down to watch him take off into flight. Incredible the wingspan and the power it took to get this lanky Avian off the ground. Usually he would just head across the road to light on the branches of an old snag but sometimes he would soar away into the woods in the distance.
Years went by and this heron became part of my routine. I showed him to my wife a few times and I even considered stopping for a photo opp. thinking he might be docile enough to pose for a pic. When work was rough or boring I always had a place deep down (sounding cliche, I apologize) where I looked forward to the possibility of seeing my bird friend from afar. A friend he had become indeed.
It was inevitable, this great heron and his daily roadside fishing, this great heron and his fearlessness, this great heron met his end this morning.
I came along after the fact, just a fan of wing softly fluttering in the breeze, feathers point skyward in a kind of farewell wave. I figured he probably tried one of his patented take-offs in front of a speeding vehicle unfamiliar with this overly confident great heron's M.O. I just hope he didn't suffer...
Ironically I did not realize how important this bird had become to me, how comfortable I had become with the familiar sight of his tall, blue, feathered head sticking up from the swamp reeds, how he had come to represent a piece of this place that for me was unattached to any of the daily rigmarole and bullshit, until he was gone.
I lost a friend today.
