Chainsaws and Blackbirds Do Not Sing the Same Song

Today we walked the dirt path along the river southeast of the new bridge. It was the first time I’ve walked that section since they began the construction of the bridge. Although the path is the same (once you get past the major bike/walkway intersection) I had a difficult time focusing on and completely enjoying the woodland around me; on the opposite side of the river backhoes, and bulldozers were parked where they had just finished bulldozing down and scooping into huge piles all of the trees and brush that formed the peaceful riverside ecosystem. The bulldozers had cleared the land right up to the edge of the river – not leaving 12 inches in its natural state. And I seethed inside: How did “they” get permits to do this horrible thing! Didn’t “they” have to do an environmental impact study? And then I questioned myself: Maybe if you’d been more aware, and of the type, you might have gotten up an awareness group to try to keep this development at least 100 feet back from the banks of the river. Who knows, maybe “they” will turn it into a beautiful walkway and it might be better than ever. Maybe I should wait to cast bitter judgments. In ten years I probably won’t care anyway.
But it was a beautiful day for walking: 40 degrees with no wind, clouds that were dappled soft gray. The red-winged blackbirds were singing their raspy songs; juncos were flitting along the river’s edge; we heard a kingfisher downstream; Canada geese lounged in the open areas where the bulldozers hadn’t been; a little ruby-crowned kinglet hopped on the branches of a nearby bush; a northern flicker flew into the top of the tree we passed under; in the heron rookery at least a dozen great-blue herons perched in their treetop stick nests; a red-tailed hawk sat on the limb of a distant tree; two American kestrels perched high up; and in the river dozens of mallard ducks bobbed upside down; and two common mergansers sat on a rock with their heads tucked back – dozing.
If tomorrow is a day like today, we’ll start at the bridge and walk the other direction.

The Great Blue Heron

THE GREAT BLUE HERON

The great blue heron
Had swallowed a fish,
And it was stuck halfway down his neck.
He looked this way and that
Checking to see if anyone
Were witnessing his indignity.

I chuckled to myself,
Albeit a little uneasily.
He reminded me of me,
When with wounded pride and ego,
I strut and argue, pout and stamp;
Anything to avoid admission of guilt.

That heron walked stiff-legged
Through the knee-deep water
Stretching his neck and bobbing his head,
But the fish stuck fast
Making an unsightly bulge
In the otherwise graceful neck.

The display lasted only a minute.
Then, resigned to the fact
That he had a fish stuck in his neck,
He relaxed
And the fish slid down to his craw.
But, the next day, I saw him again
With a fish stuck in his neck.
© 1991 Linda Muhlestein

I wrote this piece several years ago when I was in the habit of getting my foot stuck in my mouth.
I hadn't thought of it until just two days ago, when out on a walk by the pond I chanced upon a Great Blue just 30 feet away -- standing, fishing. Instead of stopping, I continued watching as I walked. Mistake! I stepped on the edge of the conglomerate walkway, my ankle turned and down I went scooting down the path on my ellbows! First thought: I think I'm okay - just some bad road rash. Second thought: Oh no! My binoculars are between me and the cement. Third thought: Is anybody watching! And there was -- of course! I don't know why you can't do these things in privacy. Trying to get up with some dignity, I assured the on-lookers that my body was intact, and I hobbled on down the path to find a more secluded spot to lick my wounds. I hunkered down in a small cul-de-sac by the side of the water and was treated to a male Hooded Merganser and his harem of 3 females bobbing on the water right in front of me! My day in the park was redeemed! My daughter asked me, "So was it worth it -- scraping your elbows?" And I truly don't know the answer!