Heron

Along the riverbank yesterday, a thick frost covering the meadow and and a heron coming into view slowly through the mist, stood alert fishing.

This is about the only bird Bobby doesn't chase, mainly because even at ten paces away he just doesn't see him. Movement seems much more important to him than smell. The heron has seem him and me of course, but we're more irritant than threat.

He treats us to a loping take-off and glide and settles down again a hundred yards further on, and the pattern continues along the river until Evelith Manor where he diverts to their lake for some peace, quiet and sticklebacks, if he can crack the ice at least ...


.