Oh to Be a Painter…

I was leaving Cockle Cove after a not-so-great morning with the camera.

Nothing special had crossed my lens, and it looked like the good salt air in my lungs was going to be my catch of the day.

And then I spotted him, on a tiny muck island in the middle of the creek.

A great blue heron!


But there was something different about this fellow.


I pulled the car over and hopped out, hoping to get a closer look.

Standing motionless on one leg, folded up like an accordion, the great bird was peering intently into the still, calm water. His bill pointing toward something – or someone – just below the water’s surface.


I had caught him in mid-hunt.

Just then, he broke off from his intense gaze and began to straighten up.

Slowly, he unfurled and stretched out a wing, the very tip just touching the water.


Then, a leg. Like some great yoga master.


Then, he stopped. Looking straight ahead…


And in one fluid motion lifted up, up, in a blur of feathers and was gone!


And as I drove away all I could think was, If only I were a painter.

I’d be running home to my paints and brushes, desperate to recapture the magic that I had just seen.

This amazing creation of feathers, heart, bill and bone.


This masterpiece.   ❤

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