The Heron

Some days the sun shines, the temperature settles into a mellow place of neither cold nor too hot, a breeze sets the leaves in motion, and being outside surrounded by trees, shrubs, and water equates to bliss.

Today fits that description—and where do you go when checking out a new telephoto lens? I opted for a nature preserve where on a good day different bird songs compete for top billing.

And how fortuitous. A rather large heron settled himself down near a path. He stood in shallow water—modeling for the six or so photographers. The length and girth of camera lenses caused me to wonder about my smaller telephoto. Was it up to the task?

I approached one photographer—”How large a mm lens is that?” He assured me that it was no bigger than my lens, just an older, bulkier lens without any stabilization. “I don’t mind,” he said,” carrying my tripod around.” His tripod looked heavy, sturdy, and impervious to any mishaps.

Several men kneeled—almost genuflected, until I realized that they wanted to be on the same level as the heron.

I set my camera on continuous shooting so that I’d catch any sudden movement , but the heron’s movements rarely included more that a sideways glance at the tall grass.

After awhile I realized that the heron captured all of us with his preening and he wouldn’t release us from our fascination until a time of his choosing. Until then we remained mesmerized—and clicking.