My Summer Goodbye to the Night-Herons

John W. Garbutt- Class of 2019

“Like painted kites, those days and nights, they went flyin' by
The world was new, beneath a blue, umbrella sky
Then softer than a piper man, one day it called to you
I lost you, I lost you to the summer wind”

-Frank Sinatra Summer Wind

It was a warm and windy Fourth of July.  As I approached the pond, the sound of Chimney Swifts and their successful broods greeted me.  Arriving at the pond, I hoped to see the fledgling Yellow-crowned Night-Herons exploring for the first time.

The first young Night-Heron I spotted.

I saw others as the count quickly rose. The young herons were striking indiscriminately at objects. One picked and tossed a Bald Cypress seed ball. Working my way into position to do some photography, a young heron descended into a flattened section of cattails.

One of the young herons hunting in the flattened section of cattails. This would become their preferred spot over the next two months.

Nearly two months later, this remained the last adult Night-Heron I saw at this location. It landed in a tree after crossing the pond. Perhaps to keep an eye on its young.

I headed toward the colony to check the nests. One contained three young which tracked my every move, curious of their surroundings, and still dependent on their parents. Only one nest in the pecan tree had occupants as the pair gular-fluttered in the heat. Visiting the site of Intake 24-1006’s fallen nest, it was gone, washed away in a late May or early June storm. However, this time, the creek was dry, no boots required. It was quite except for the cicadas. A few Swallowtails fluttered about. I looked without success for a possible rebuild nest from the pair whose nest had fallen. After four months of activity, with it now being so quiet, the melody and lyrics of Pink Floyd’s Nobody Home played in my head.

Movement to my left caught my eye. In the distance, a young Night-Heron flapped its wings as it tried to maintain its balance as it moved about. Examining the surroundings, I soon noticed an undiscovered nest with five fledgling stage birds.

Exiting the woods, my thoughts were not what I expected them to be at this point in the summer. Thinking it was only the beginning of July, and knowing the herons would begin migration in a couple of months, I had a weird sense of finality with this year’s colony. Though at least three nests contained young at the final stage of needing adult care, I had only seen one adult. Most had probably dispersed to other locales as their parental duties were complete. This year had been the largest colony since I can began observations. Remembering the Leopold quote in which this series began, I still did not know all of the salient facts. I was not sure how many nests there had been. Over a dozen would not have surprised me.

Learning to feed itself.

The most amazing thing I have noticed in studying the colony for three years is that the young are enamored with the jets as they fly overhead. It is amazing to think, that at approximately four months old, they will embark on their first migration.

My 28^th visit to see the herons was nearing the end and it was perhaps for the final time this year. I had that feeling once again as I looked forward to that spring day, one possibly with a remnant chill of winter, but a warming tease of seasonal change and next year’s first arrival.

“Where the way is dark and the night is cold
One sunny mornin’ we’ll rise I know
And I’ll meet you further on up the road.”

Bruce Spingsteen- Further On (Up the Road)