Do You See?

the gray heron turns blue, bluer than sky…

Something made my day. Walked down to Bridge of Allan, one of the towns flanking University of Stirling campus, this evening with T, and guess what I saw?

A heron!!!

Smack in the middle of the town, from across a bridge over a creek. Cars and people went over while the heron stood in a meditative stance down below in the flowing creek which seemed to have pretty strong currents. My tiny digital cam doesn’t allow superb close ups. Just have these that I clicked.

Yes, A HERON. Not a flock, but a smart, cool, confident heron!

Have a dekko:

Click on the first pic and keep tapping on the right cursor to see more. Press ESC to return to page. Happy happy happy!

Oh, and don’t miss this heron poem:

The Blue
by David Baker
heron is gray, not blue, but great enough
against brown-tipped bowed cattails to be
well-named, is known for its stealth, shier
than a cloud, but won't fly or float away
when it's scared, stands there thinking maybe
it's invisible though it's not—tall, gray,
straight as a pole among the cloudy reeds.

Then it picks up one stem leg. This takes time.
And sets it down just beyond the other,
no splash, breath of a ripple, goes on
slowly across the silt, mud, algae-
throttled surface, through sedge grass,
to stand to its knees in water turning
grayer now that afternoon is evening.

Now that afternoon is evening
the gray heron turns blue, bluer than sky,
bluer than the mercury blue-black still pond.
So when did it snag the bullfrog
hanging, kicking, in its scissor beak?
To look so long means to miss the sudden.
It strides around like a sleek cat

from pond to bank and back, blue tall bird,
washing the frog, banging it against stones,
pecking almost as if it doesn't know
what to do now that it's caught such a thing.
How fast its beak must be to shoot out
like an arrow or that certain—as it's called—
slant of light. Blue light. Where did it go?

And another by Theodore Roethke called “The Heron“.



I will never give up longing. 
I will let my hair stay long. 
The rain proclaims these trees,
the trees tell of the sun.
Let birds, let birds.
Let leaf be passion.
Let jaw, let teeth, let tongue be
between us. Let joy.

     –from "Let Birds" by Linda Gregg

2 comments on “the gray heron turns blue, bluer than sky…

  1. Mihir Vatsa
    May 23, 2012

    Cool heron. Heron and heroine. Pretty close.

    Like the poem by Baker. Nice one. Also, buy a new camera. 😀

  2. Do You See
    May 23, 2012

    Vatsa, did you read the Theodore Roethke poem as well? Both the poets look at the heron in terms of its one leg, the standing stance, the beak, and a quick snipe at a frog…! My heron caught two fish while I was there. David Baker oscillates between a sort of real and imagined heron by bringing in the colour references. Roethke too, lives in his *imaginative territory* (“I had several worlds to live in which I felt were mine”) where the heron is in control — “a single ripple starts from where he stood”!

    OK, so much about poetry lecture today.

    Heroines are in abundance these days. It was good to find one heron. And I do have a bigger better camera; just that don’t like carrying it around. I travel too much. Hope your JNU entrance takes you through for the Masters programme. Best wishes.- ND

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This entry was posted on May 22, 2012 by in Bridge of Allan, Nabina Das, poetry, The Blue, the heron, University of Stirling.
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