Blue Heron
The great blue heron is one of the shore folk and his metallic blue-gray body gleams in the sunlight, as you sight him from your canoe, standing tall and slim, a lonely figure on the bank. He flies slowly and majestically, with his long legs streaming out behind. When out in a small boat on Puget Sound a large heron escorted us some distance. As we rowed near the shore he would fly ahead and then wait for us, standing solemnly on a stone in the water or a partially submerged log, to fly again as we approached.
The fish-hawk will sometimes build near the ground.
This escort business seems to be a habit of the heron family, for the same thing occurred on the Tomoca River, Fla., the home of the alligator, when a small, brilliantly blue heron flew ahead of our boat for several miles, always stopping to wait for us, and then going on again.
The heron is a fisher and when you see him standing close to the water, on one foot perhaps, he is awaiting his game. It matters not how long he must remain immovable, there he will stand until the fish comes within striking distance, when the long, curved neck will shoot out like a snake and the strong beak grasp its unwary prey.