I try to get in some nature when and where I can. A recent errand run below found me at a favorite wetland “go-to”, the Walden and Sawhill Ponds open space trails.  I was on my way out when I happened upon this juvenile (as noted by the dappled feather pattern of its neck) great blue heron standing at the edge of the reeds.  Not having seen much photo-worthy activity on my walk, I decided to try and capture a few quick portraits in the fading light before calling it a night.  What happened next was both impressive and quite comical to observe.

Great blue herons are predatory birds who live exclusively around water.  While their diet is generally pescatarian (fish eating), they also hunt all kinds of animals from snakes, reptiles and lizards to rodents and even other small birds.  They spend up to 90% of their waking hours patiently waiting for or stalking prey. While this youngster was seemingly providing an idyllic pose in evening light, it was intent on a mission to find some dinner before dark.

As I crouched on the bank of the pond taking photos and trying not to startle the bird and cause it to depart, it turned sharply from its pose and went into an alert state.  These birds have stunning eyesight capabilities, considered about 3 times more effectively detailed than humans.  Their eyes function like a telephoto lens allowing them to visually “zoom in” on a target and determine distance even through the distortions of water.  Dinner was lurking just below the surface, and this bird was on a mission.

This alert state of hunting often has them very slowly wading towards their prey, with head often cocked at an angle to aid them in avoiding light glare on the water’s surface.  While their moves are typically cautious and calculated, this bird wasn’t wasting any time (ah, the impatience of youth…).  It very quickly (in a relative way) made its way from its initial peaceful perch over to a better position near its quarry.  With only a very brief hesitation to calculate its attack, it seized the opportunity and plunged its head in for the kill.

While smaller prey might have herons utilizing a “catching” technique, larger animals require a more brutal approach in the way of using their bills to stab.  This allows them to more effectively disable their meal, as wings are no help when it comes to managing and maneuvering a meal for devouring.  Without the ability to “peck at” their food like a smaller-billed bird might do, they must swallow their prey whole, and a larger catch should ideally be mostly immobile. 

When the heron finally drew its head out of the water from its attacking plunge, I was astounded at its prize.  A carp that was larger than the bird’s head was apparently too distracted by its meal of pond vegetation and hadn’t noticed the rapid moves of its hunter.  As seen in the image, the stabbing technique was absolutely necessary (the end of the lower bill seen protruding from the fish’s head).

Typically, a meal will be devoured quite rapidly after a catch, but this youngster seemed to display both great pride at its catch, as well as a bit of confusion as to how it should proceed.  It spent the first few post-kill minutes strutting about the water as if showing off the prize to whomever might be watching.  A few times it dipped the fish back into the water and I chuckled at the thought that maybe the kid was trying to keep it alive so as to be able to show it off longer.

Eventually the heron carried the fresh-water “whale” over to a rocky shoal near the shore and placed it on the rocks.  It then proceeded to pace back and forth, coming at the fish from various angles, looking to be quite confused as to how it might undertake eating such a massive catch.  Often these birds will pick up and flip around their prey to position it head-first for ease of swallowing.  It appeared as though the flipping around part was far too big of an undertaking with the giant catch, and the poor bird just didn’t know how it would make that head-first swallow happen from the ground.

For the next 10 minutes or so the bird struggled to work out its culinary puzzle.  A few times the youngster picked the fish up and carried it back into the water, my thought being that it might be easier to gain the head if the fish was floating.  These attempts were to no avail, and after carrying the catch back to the shoal I wondered if it might just quit and go find another fish.  Not wanting him to give up, I quietly cheered the youth on with its attempts, laughing at the comical drama.

After nearly 20 minutes it finally committed. Sadly, I wasn’t provided with a view of the initial swallow as its back was turned to me in the rapidly fading light. It did turn before the final gulp, displaying a grotesquely engorged and carp-shaped neck.  I gave it a hardy huzzah, then clamored my way up to the trail and back to the car with many thanks and giggles at the performance.

The next day I had to return to the same area and, with a little bit more light left than the previous evening, decided to go back with hopes of more action.  After enjoying another heron’s successful hunts, I came upon my young friend out in the middle of the same pond where it had been victorious the night before.  It didn’t appear to be in any mood to hunt, and I wondered if it had even made any attempts to fly.  Herons consume 1-2 pounds of fish per day (20-40% of their own weight), and I imagine the previous evening’s meal was holding it over quite well.  Before continuing my walk, I gave it a brief greeting and short prayer for a quick recovery from its inevitable indigestion.

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

The post Whaling In the Wetlands appeared first on James DeWalt Photography.

Great blue herons are a large bird, standing at heights between 3.5-4.5 feet tall, with a wingspan of up to 6 feet.  While they stand quite tall, they are quite a light-weight bird, coming in on the high side at around 5 pounds.  This surprising statistic comes from the fact that like all birds, they are blessed with hollow bones, minimizing their weight for flight. 

These large and seemingly prehistoric birds cover a wide range of territory.  I say prehistoric, as, if you’ve ever heard them croaking while in flight, it is truly a sound one might imagine coming from one of their ancient dinosaur ancestors.  Strictly a wetlands animal, their habitats in the western hemisphere spread from Central and South America all the way up to the southern coast of Alaska.  Whether home is a coastal zone, ponds and lakes, or a slow-moving river, water is essential.  This fact makes them quite attracted to the habitats created by beavers, as mentioned in one of the last months’ Life in Nature articles.

While water is key to their existence, these herons do not live strictly on a diet of fish, though they are quite adept at fishing like the osprey written about in my last article.  They are also quite content with lizards and amphibians, snakes, insects and small mammals, typically rodents. This wide dietary array is what allows them to consider such a large swath of land as home territory.

These long-necked creatures are quite adept at hunting.  They do so by either wading or standing completely motionless, neck-straightened, eyeing the waters fixedly with stunning, patient intensity until a suitable dinner swims, crawls or slithers by.  Once the timing is right, they strike out with deadly accuracy, using their long bill as a spear.  In the case of a thin prey such as a snake, they will simply snatch it up with a bite, often leaving the snake to wrap itself around the heron’s neck and head before the final swallow.

The stock-still method of fishing is quite an impressive feat to behold.  As seen in the photo, the birds can stand in this pose for incredibly long periods of time, waiting in Zen-like focus for the perfect moment to strike.  Gifted with an abundance of rod-like structures in their eyes, they also have enhanced night vision, allowing them to hunt in this way at all hours of the day or night.  This is quite impressive in and of itself, considering they are looking into the dark water to do so. 

While these birds sometimes nest on the ground near a water source, they more often build stick nests high in the treetops.  They tend to do so in groups called heronries or rookeries.  These communities can grow to be quite large, with some reaching as many as 500 nests in one “neighborhood”. 

Since their return in numbers a couple years ago to the highway-side lake across from the Kelly Dahl campground, the rookery is now about 6 or so nests and growing little by little each year.  The community has taken up residence on the south side of the lake, clustered atop a few different pine trees.  It’s relatively easy to spot and will be much more so in the next few weeks to a month, as this year’s chicks are born and the adults spend their summer days flying to and fro with many new mouths to feed.  The pull-off on the county line makes for a great spot to pause during one’s morning or evening commute and take in the sunrise or sunset while watching these and the many other birds and beasts who call this beautiful place home.

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

The post The Zen of the Hunt appeared first on James DeWalt Photography.