Gone Birding

I like fishing. Not actual fishing - I like the peace and quiet of being at sea. It's different.
- Rafael Nadal

At this time of year, when the trees are leafing out and the migrant birds are heading north to their breeding grounds, I walk slowly through the woods, stopping every few minutes or even few steps to listen. Most of my birding seems to be done by ear at this time of year because the foliage makes it difficult to see birds up in the treetops scavenging for food. Unless I happen to see movement, a quiet bird is invisible to me.

Being patient while birding can be like fishing. 

When MH and I used to visit the house his parents would rent in New Hampshire every summer, I'd see his father going down to the end of the dock with his chair and his fishing pole and just sit quietly, staring at the water. When he got a nibble, he'd pull in the fish and then toss it back. He'd also do this when joined by his grandchildren.

Great blue heron (RE Berg-Andersson)

He wasn't there to catch fish for supper. I suspect he was there to get away from family members who got a little too noisy for his tastes, or he wanted some calm and quiet to recover from his days as a commercial loan officer at a busy New Jersey bank.

I know that feeling, too well.

So I was away from home, walking alongside the river and listening for the returning migrants I would expect to find in this area: yellow warbler, phoebe, blue-gray gnatcatcher, Baltimore oriole. They were all there plus some surprises, yellow-throated vireo and prairie warbler among them. Had I been jogging on the path with headphones on or walking through quickly, in my own little world (as I see many do), I'd have missed all of that. I am not out for exercise, although I know walking is good for me. I am there for the peace and the quiet and the birds.

On this recent walk along the river I was passed by an older man who responded to my hello. 

Seeing my binoculars he asked, "Have you seen the great blue heron? I'm a fisherman, but he's a much more patient one than I am."

Yes, I have seen the great blue heron, I told him, just not that day. 

This heron is a common bird wherever there are rivers, ponds or marshy areas. The great blue will stand stock-still for long, very long, periods of time - unlike most human fishermen - and can be easy to miss because its blue-gray coloring helps it blend in with its surroundings when it's at the water's edge. If a fish or frog happens to get within its reach, it snaps it up in its long, orange bill. Or it will stalk its prey, slowly moving on its long legs.

The great blue, unlike its smaller relatives such as the great egret, snowy egret, green heron and little blue heron, will spend the winter in my part of New Jersey where it can find food. I found one once in the middle of a snowy field near an unfrozen river, to its consternation. This bird looks almost prehistoric, like a modern pterodactyl. 

But when it flies it looks majestic. According to National Geographic, these herons are 3.2 to 4.5 feet in size and have a wingspan of 5.5 to 6.6 feet. When they fly they tuck in their necks and their long legs stream behind, making them look like a giant S. Up close they can scare the hell out of you when they take off, as one lurking bird did when MH passed too close on a nearby path. These birds can fly fast, at 20 to 30 miles an hour.

When they go fishing, however, they are much, much slower. And so am I, when I am fishing for birds.