In the springtime, it is not uncommon to see migratory birds at the farm. Especially the kind of birds that prefer water. Our naturalized and largely undisturbed wetlands provide what looks like a great place for marshland birds to come and settle in.
Many of these birds stay, but just as many leave, as it soon becomes obvious to larger predators or waterfowl that prefer fish, that there is no plentiful food here. So we do see birds like the Belted Kingfisher, but only temporarily (one was hanging out in our backyard for a few weeks this season and we got to watch him hunt frogs).
Another common temporary spring resident is the Great Blue Heron. They come in solitary, and are only really visible when they fly. This spring, a Blue Heron came, and because I just got my camera, I was very very excited that I could get a proof of existence photo. I used maximum zoom, equivalent of 600mm on my Micro 4/3 sensor, to get a shot of the high-flying Heron and cropped the photo to get this of the beautiful bird in flight.
But that’s as close as I can get. I went out repeatedly to try and find him and get a photo, but it would never work. A few times I got close, and spooked the Heron, not even knowing he was there. The Heron would relocate and in doing so, I lost another chance. They are too well camouflaged and hide easily in the decaying reeds. You are walking through marshes, looking for clear vantage points, and you just don’t even know where they are, you’re hoping to get lucky.
I resigned to waiting until next season for the Heron and hope that I could get myself into a position to take a photo of it.
However, the Heron did not leave….the Heron stayed all season.
I have never seen a Heron stay past springtime before. There were constant sightings through the summer of the Heron flying and relocating. So this in itself was unusual. But what was keeping it staying here? Well, first, we got an enormous amount of rain in June, which kept the Class 3 wetlands full of water. They are very large carnivorous birds, and would require quite a lot of food. But fish is not on the menu in a temporary pond. Frogs, plenty, but fish? Well, it is possible, and I have seen it before, that minnows can exist. This would require something like a Carp coming up from the river and laying eggs in creeks or ditches (and this does happen). But, perhaps this Heron likes the taste of frog so much that he was in summer paradise.
In the last month, there were more Heron sightings. One morning I walked out of the house to start working and was surprised to see a large bird take off from what appeared to be my koi pond area. At first I thought it was an Owl or Eagle, but as soon as the bird got up and out of the creek, it was indeed our 2026 resident Blue Heron, all of 10 or 15 metres from the house!
Another couple sightings while we were working on our beds and doing fall prep. But each time, it was the Heron taking off, not liking the close proximity of our farming chores. All the while, the water in the creeks dwindled to small pools of mud.
These birds are so majestic and such powerful spirit animal types. They are so easily spooked. They don’t want to hang out with you (I don’t blame them, we keep destroying their habitat to make lawns). The idea that I could get close enough to see the bird and get a photo was gone from me at this point. I was just happy that I got to see the Heron many many times, and even though there was no photo, it was okay. Experiencing wildlife feels extremely meaningful here, especially when real estate prospectors and governments are eager to destroy all of it. We lose our connection to the land, and the more we lose, the more land destruction accelerates. Moments that bring you within metres of wildlife are in themselves enough to tell stories of the encounter, how special, or powerful it can be. We carry those moments with us in our memories and they affect us in a base instinctual level, triggering the intricate connections with the wild world that we are supposed to have.
One day, this past week, I saw the Heron again.
But I did not see him leaving…I saw him landing. In our creek. I stopped what I was doing, I grabbed my camera, and careful not to spook him, not even knowing in what orientation he landed in the creek or if he was still there, I crawled the final 20 meters or so to a natural hide. I made noise rustling in the leaves, so before even poking my head up, I knew he was already aware of me.
I set my camera the best I could and decided my strategy was to just start shooting, afraid that he may only stay for seconds once he sees me, and I may lose my chance again. That’s if I could even find him to begin with, or if he was in part of the creek I would not be able to photograph. I popped my head up, and to my surprise, he was in the perfect position directly opposite of me, and I started shooting.
The late afternoon, late-October golden hour light was beautiful. Through the dark shadows of frost-dried cattails, the sun hit the Heron as though shining a spotlight on him. The bright yellow eyes reflecting the sun’s energy, and we all know there was only one thing he was watching….me.
Wildlife photography allows you to literally come eye-to-eye with other highly intelligent life…and their intelligence is directly visible. There is an unspoken silent communication between yourself and the animal. In this case, an animal I have been wanting and waiting to get a photograph for the entire season. I know of him, and he knows of me.
But this is the first time we’ve met.
I nearly started crying when I looked at these photos for the first time. I would have been happy with proof of existence! But I got magic. I think this is the best photo I’ve taken all season. It captures the moment the Heron met the Farmer.
The encounter lasted only 3 or 4 minutes. I got lucky so many times! One to see him land, two to get a position, three to get the golden hour light. I would get lucky a fourth time: that he did not leave for a few minutes, and a 5th stroke of luck: shooting almost blindly and discovering later that these photos were beautiful in their lighting and composition.
Much of wildlife photography is focused on über-sharp high-res images. In general, I am not interested in this sort of photography. The Heron is perfectly in context, hidden behind the carbon detritus of a wetland in fall, with a hint of photosynthetic life blurred in the foreground. I am not sure as I’m a total camera gear amateur, but with this photo, I think the contrast-based autofocus of my OM-5 M-II camera helped me out big time in getting this shot, with the contrast between the dwindling afternoon light and the shadows of the reeds giving my camera enough to go on.
I had no clear shot the entire time…I was shooting through grass, trees, twigs, branches, and 2+ metre tall cattails. I would get lucky a sixth time: the Heron allowed me to reposition myself twice. Even though I made a lot of noise with the leaves on the forest floor, I crawled back and away from the pond to let him know I was not coming closer. He changed his posture and I had a more clear shot this time.
And then he took off, and I watched him fly up and out.
I couldn’t be happier with this late season encounter and my six consecutive strokes of luck. A stunning creature, the Great Blue Heron, and I’m glad this Heron called our creek system home for this season, and it felt like a truly full-circle moment to end the season with a short and beautiful meet and greet.
Hope to see you again next year!
Graham
PS: Is anyone interested in a calendar of my wildlife photography? I could get some made up and they would be available at cost.
PS2: I really like Herons, and the title of this post is a nod to one of my favourite movies, Hayao Miyazaki’s final film The Boy and the Heron.
thanks for reading complimentary blueberry juice
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