Great Blue Heron

Great blue heron, soaring overhead.

I watch as this wide winged wonder soars from the heavens, cascading down watching me as I cast, back and forth, line resting over glassy pond water. The bird lands, wading close. 

Our purpose is the same. We both seek a fish. 

Her legs bend forward as she silently sulks, creeping through the water seeking unsuspecting prey. 

My line straightens out, the bobber floating, suspending a midge right where I think they may strike.

We both wait. 

The heron has always been a calming presence, a creature who reminds me of why I am out there. 

Regardless of the catch, regardless of the strikes or the action any chance to get out there is a chance to see, hear, and feel the space around me. 

I take a deep breath, settle my nerves, and bring in some slack.

I look up to see my new friend staring at me. The herons head peers around as its glassy eye pierces mine. I know it Is looking to me and I wonder what it would say if we could talk. What has she seen, what could I learn, what mysteries could she solve.

Suddenly her beak opens as her squawk rings out.

My line goes tights.

Her wings spread out.

I set the hook.

She takes flight.

I put pressure on the line.

She soars through the air. 

I pull out my net. 

My friend flaps out of sight. 

I take the fish in my hand. 

I remove my hook, thank the trout, and let him go. He swims away. Slashing through the water, cutting quickly through the cool winter water. 

Great blue heron, did you know this strike was coming? Could you know when this fish would come? Did you try to tell me, try to prepare me? 

Another mystery I will never know.

I stand back up, settle my feet, prepare my line, and cast again.