Beautiful as always, David. The imagery of the crows, so true; we too have some that patrol their hood. A few years ago, I watched in fascinated horror as a crow tried to take out a leveret. It was a monumental battle, but the leveret was a plucky fellow and came out boxing; on its hind legs, boxing. After being pecked, lifted and dropped, it finally escaped, not without injury.
Just 10 days ago, I was in northern Vermont checking on our now closed, seasonal camp. I was watching a Bald Eagle perched high on a dead branch (a snag), scanning the partially frozen lake for a ripple to fish. I was distracted by another bird just clearing the tree tops, prehistoric looking in flight compared to the majesty of the Eagle, surprised to see it was a Great Blue, migrating a bit late. I wondered if they glanced at each other. I called out greetings and safe travels. In these parts ,a not so common solo traveler, must have missed the newsletter from the rookery.
“Herons and people tell their stories. What we make of them is up to us.”
May you continue to tell your stories for many years to come, perhaps someday you’ll have the pleasure of sharing one with a Great Blue. Preferably during one of his ‘still life while fishing’ pose.
Prehistoric indeed. Good eye! And 'a snag'. Heavens, that is conjuring up something in some great web of connotation. I say a 'snag' for one of those underwater branches or suchlike which catches your line just when you have a big fish on. An unseen intervention. Hmm - and your 'snag' sort of catching your eye. Some wonderful connection there I can't quite put my finger on. I'll go on looking...
Funny you picked that out. My husband and I, like you, have always used the term ‘snag’ for the underwater tree branch interference while fishing. I sometimes imagine a school of fish buddies directing their friend towards a snag for a last chance at freedom, “unseen intervention.” We also use the word for a partially submerged tree branch; ‘we always catch fish by the snag’. I was going to say, the Eagle was perched on the top of a dead tree, but thought there might be a better description than dead. So I took advantage of the world of information I held in my hand and found this;
“Native Plant Habitats:
Snags - The name for dead trees that are left upright to decompose naturally.
Trees and Snags :Dead trees provide vital habitat for more than 1,000 species of wildlife nationwide.” ~National Wildlife Federation.
Ultimately, I’m glad to have used the word, I love ‘watching’ you hold the word , turning it around , observing at different angles 🧐.
“Heavens, that is conjuring up something in some great web of connotation.”
Ahh David, I am delighted by your acknowledgment of just two seasons on this tiny but oh so stubborn island !
I spent many an evening debating this over perhaps one too many glasses of Paddy’s Whiskey (with an ‘e’ of course) Whether my opinion was made stinger for its effects a negligible point but no matter all agreed that winter is the defining season over there regardless if autumn’s remains nor the delicate steps into spring - so often retraced - were visible.
Lovely as always - baby herons, I’m speechless! 🙏🏽
Dear Susie, don't we walk in each other's shoes - to sort of riff on the old Gaelic proverb that you never know where the other fellow's shoe is pinching him. Those conversations about imponderables - conducted as an art-form in itself. Veritable concertos of words :-)
"Perhaps it is our winters which define us after all....The season of cold days, of failed days and the repeated rebuttal of hopes. The weeks of holding on and the grace of our endurance." This speaks to me, David, as I suspect you knew it would. We are a long way from winter's tail, I fear. Fortunately for us, you, unlike some of us, possess the gift to look past the trees to see the forest — then turn it other way around to observe the trees and their tiny heron inhabitants (who are BTW adorable not in the least ugly). If we had to fish for our dinner perhaps we too would develop the patience of the heron? Or become vegetarians. xo
Carmine, my dear friend :-) Some tails are longer than others, for sure. And you with your curse-gift to carry along the way. Yes, stop and fish once in a while and you will find minnows, I don't doubt.
Oh, I just thought. Some people use 'minnows' to denote insignificant things of little worth. I adore minnows, tiny iridescent sparks of life, so often there but so rarely seen. It was that sort of 'minnow' I meant :-)
I tilted back in my chair, closed my eyes and let your storyteller's voice transport me around the world. I thank you, sir for the ride on this magic carpet...
That's kind of you, again, David. I have to confess that I stay away from your prose for weeks on end. Deliberately. The voice can be so strong that it interferes with radio reception. But sometimes I sneak in when nobody is looking, like a magpie thieving in the shed. I toss things about until I find something shiny. A baldie 'strafing'. Yes, I'll have that. And away with me :-)
Thank you so much for this series. I have looked forward to it, knowing that in the middle or each week I will have a moment where I step out of my space and see the world through your words. The respect and honour with which you view the world awakes the same in me and for a time (minutes? forever?) my mind is calm and my heart is full. Thank you!
Indeed, David; what could be finer than listening to an old woman tell a story? My maternal grandmother, known to me as Gram, had a fine stable of stories, precisely worded and oft repeated, word for word, many people got tired of the stories or grew impatient or were unkind and disrespectful; saying things such as, Yes! I *know*!! You’ve told me this story a thousand thousand times!! And with great impatience they’d cut her off and go on with what was of import to them. I always wondered if my Gram was injured by those harsh words from her alleged loved ones. I made it a point to really listen to her stories, over and over again, and not tune her out, but once in a while, to ask her a question about her thoughts. These seemed to surprise her consistently, as though even she was taken aback that someone was actually listening. I love old people stories. They really are the best and it matters not to me if it’s the first time mine ears have heard it or the thousand thousandth! I just hope someone will listen politely to my stories should I have the good fortune to become very old.
I could listen to your stories too, as you grow old. I hope you will continue to share them with us David. Your words make my heart smile. 🩵
Ha! Isn't impatience with old stories a terrible affliction. I hope that somewhere there is a very big laboratory full of clever people working on a cure :-)
Perhaps it is our winters that define us 👌
I enjoy your writing immensely and the audio really brings it all to life.
Thanks again, Patricia, for taking the time to stand and peer into the water :-)
Beautiful as always, David. The imagery of the crows, so true; we too have some that patrol their hood. A few years ago, I watched in fascinated horror as a crow tried to take out a leveret. It was a monumental battle, but the leveret was a plucky fellow and came out boxing; on its hind legs, boxing. After being pecked, lifted and dropped, it finally escaped, not without injury.
What a great story, Lynn. Thanks.
th hell y’say ! A ‘leveret ! ?🦎🏴☠️🍁
Just 10 days ago, I was in northern Vermont checking on our now closed, seasonal camp. I was watching a Bald Eagle perched high on a dead branch (a snag), scanning the partially frozen lake for a ripple to fish. I was distracted by another bird just clearing the tree tops, prehistoric looking in flight compared to the majesty of the Eagle, surprised to see it was a Great Blue, migrating a bit late. I wondered if they glanced at each other. I called out greetings and safe travels. In these parts ,a not so common solo traveler, must have missed the newsletter from the rookery.
“Herons and people tell their stories. What we make of them is up to us.”
May you continue to tell your stories for many years to come, perhaps someday you’ll have the pleasure of sharing one with a Great Blue. Preferably during one of his ‘still life while fishing’ pose.
Prehistoric indeed. Good eye! And 'a snag'. Heavens, that is conjuring up something in some great web of connotation. I say a 'snag' for one of those underwater branches or suchlike which catches your line just when you have a big fish on. An unseen intervention. Hmm - and your 'snag' sort of catching your eye. Some wonderful connection there I can't quite put my finger on. I'll go on looking...
Funny you picked that out. My husband and I, like you, have always used the term ‘snag’ for the underwater tree branch interference while fishing. I sometimes imagine a school of fish buddies directing their friend towards a snag for a last chance at freedom, “unseen intervention.” We also use the word for a partially submerged tree branch; ‘we always catch fish by the snag’. I was going to say, the Eagle was perched on the top of a dead tree, but thought there might be a better description than dead. So I took advantage of the world of information I held in my hand and found this;
“Native Plant Habitats:
Snags - The name for dead trees that are left upright to decompose naturally.
Trees and Snags :Dead trees provide vital habitat for more than 1,000 species of wildlife nationwide.” ~National Wildlife Federation.
Ultimately, I’m glad to have used the word, I love ‘watching’ you hold the word , turning it around , observing at different angles 🧐.
“Heavens, that is conjuring up something in some great web of connotation.”
Ahh David, I am delighted by your acknowledgment of just two seasons on this tiny but oh so stubborn island !
I spent many an evening debating this over perhaps one too many glasses of Paddy’s Whiskey (with an ‘e’ of course) Whether my opinion was made stinger for its effects a negligible point but no matter all agreed that winter is the defining season over there regardless if autumn’s remains nor the delicate steps into spring - so often retraced - were visible.
Lovely as always - baby herons, I’m speechless! 🙏🏽
Dear Susie, don't we walk in each other's shoes - to sort of riff on the old Gaelic proverb that you never know where the other fellow's shoe is pinching him. Those conversations about imponderables - conducted as an art-form in itself. Veritable concertos of words :-)
"Perhaps it is our winters which define us after all....The season of cold days, of failed days and the repeated rebuttal of hopes. The weeks of holding on and the grace of our endurance." This speaks to me, David, as I suspect you knew it would. We are a long way from winter's tail, I fear. Fortunately for us, you, unlike some of us, possess the gift to look past the trees to see the forest — then turn it other way around to observe the trees and their tiny heron inhabitants (who are BTW adorable not in the least ugly). If we had to fish for our dinner perhaps we too would develop the patience of the heron? Or become vegetarians. xo
Carmine, my dear friend :-) Some tails are longer than others, for sure. And you with your curse-gift to carry along the way. Yes, stop and fish once in a while and you will find minnows, I don't doubt.
Oh, I just thought. Some people use 'minnows' to denote insignificant things of little worth. I adore minnows, tiny iridescent sparks of life, so often there but so rarely seen. It was that sort of 'minnow' I meant :-)
No worries, my friend, I have never even heard the word “minnows” used in that first sense. I wish you shining minnows as well. 🙂
I tilted back in my chair, closed my eyes and let your storyteller's voice transport me around the world. I thank you, sir for the ride on this magic carpet...
That's kind of you, again, David. I have to confess that I stay away from your prose for weeks on end. Deliberately. The voice can be so strong that it interferes with radio reception. But sometimes I sneak in when nobody is looking, like a magpie thieving in the shed. I toss things about until I find something shiny. A baldie 'strafing'. Yes, I'll have that. And away with me :-)
Thank you for the heron chicks. And the fast-beating hearts. And the story that asks for an advance of the spring. It's a better way to go.
Hi again, Angela. Thanks for coming back for more :-)
And we would also look, yes, adorable , but quite gangly as we grew into our knife edged beaks, stretchy S shaped necks and long legs.
And not to forget that dandy cat-lick feather that will crown the tops of our heads :-)
Thank you so much for this series. I have looked forward to it, knowing that in the middle or each week I will have a moment where I step out of my space and see the world through your words. The respect and honour with which you view the world awakes the same in me and for a time (minutes? forever?) my mind is calm and my heart is full. Thank you!
That is lovely to hear, Loren. Thank you for coming along.
Indeed, David; what could be finer than listening to an old woman tell a story? My maternal grandmother, known to me as Gram, had a fine stable of stories, precisely worded and oft repeated, word for word, many people got tired of the stories or grew impatient or were unkind and disrespectful; saying things such as, Yes! I *know*!! You’ve told me this story a thousand thousand times!! And with great impatience they’d cut her off and go on with what was of import to them. I always wondered if my Gram was injured by those harsh words from her alleged loved ones. I made it a point to really listen to her stories, over and over again, and not tune her out, but once in a while, to ask her a question about her thoughts. These seemed to surprise her consistently, as though even she was taken aback that someone was actually listening. I love old people stories. They really are the best and it matters not to me if it’s the first time mine ears have heard it or the thousand thousandth! I just hope someone will listen politely to my stories should I have the good fortune to become very old.
I could listen to your stories too, as you grow old. I hope you will continue to share them with us David. Your words make my heart smile. 🩵
Ha! Isn't impatience with old stories a terrible affliction. I hope that somewhere there is a very big laboratory full of clever people working on a cure :-)
I hope so too!! A lab full of people with massive craniums!
Breathtaking writing, as always. Thank you for sharing your words and encouraging me to pay greater attention.
Hi again, Alice. You must have some lovely tall grey neighbours, I guess :-)
Ah yes. Yes. Thank you.
Thanks, Darkhorse, that is kind of you.
lovin this .. mucho .. & why so ? Caught me so - by total surprise 🦎🏴☠️🖤
Thanks for reading, Thomas. The world is forever springing surprises on me so hopefully a few of them shine through :-)