Edit – I originally identified one of the birds as a green heron. I’ve gotten a couple emails saying it is a juvenile black-crowned night heron. I’ve updated the captions. Thanks for the correction.
Two recent mornings found me on the Eastons’ pond and two evenings found me visiting the herons. The Easton chicks should be trying to fly by now, maybe even flying. I’ve yet to catch them in the act. The herons provided either feast or famine.
I’m getting ready for the Vermont North By Hand Open Studio Tour, October 10 & 11. Artists around the Upper Valley will be opening their studios and showing their work. Since I don’t have a studio, I’ll be at the Martin Farm. It doesn’t yet show on the online map, it is right on the Bradford-Fairlee town line on Route 5. Sue Martin will be showing her stained glass and Carole Kitchel Bellew will have her stoneware at the Farm as well.
Fall had arrived when I made it to the Eastons’ pond on the 29th. When I got to the pond, it was still above the fog. A brisk 46° when I put in had me digging out a sweatshirt. Mom was tending the chicks. Dad was off the pond somewhere to start the morning. The chicks were off on their own – they’re old enough to take care of themselves. The otters were feeding and romping along the shore. They disappeared before the sun came up.
One of the chicks cruised by to say hello.
The other chick was busy preening.
He’s reaching back to get some preen oil from the uropygial gland near the base of his tail. He’ll spread the oil over all his feathers to keep them waterproof.
Finished preening, he gives a nice stretch.
And another stretch. I lost track of which chick was which, but I’m sure this is one of them.
That evening, I headed down to the river to see if I could catch the heron in action.
This painted turtle was out basking about 18″ above the water. Guess he liked the view.
And this pair of painted turtles watched me while I waited for the heron to show himself. Every so often, they’d bob their heads like they were laughing at some turtle joke. They reminded me of Statler and Waldorf – the two grumpy old men Muppets that heckled from the balcony. They had the last laugh, the heron stayed behind the brush all evening.
The next morning found me back on the Eastons’ pond. It was once again in the high 40s when I put in. The hill to the west of the pond has turned slightly rusty and there were a couple trees around the pond that have already turned. Once again, the otters were playing along the shore, but didn’t stick around for photos. Both loon parents were on the pond, but trying to leave the chicks to fend for themselves. They succeeded for a time.
One of the chicks came around a corner on the shore and spotted the otters playing on and around some rocks. The chick headed away at a good clip. Swim away! Swim away! Otters! Swim for your life!
The chicks were both foraging independently. They were covering a lot of distance underwater when they went down. One would appear in the neighborhood of my boat. Then dive a couple times staying in the neighborhood before diving and disappearing. This one took time to stretch as the first light hit the pond.
Here comes one of the chicks along the shore. You can see there’s some yellow and red in the leaves behind him.
He must have seen me watching, he took time to show off with a nice stretch. You can see his flight feathers nicely along the bottom of his wings. I was hoping to catch them trying to fly, but it wasn’t on their schedule for the morning.
The other chick preening and cleaning the feathers on his belly.
Followed by a good shake of his head, which sent water drops flying.
And he too stretched nicely. Again, you can see the flight feathers have grown in nicely along the bottom of his wing. Preening and stretching complete, it was time to find some breakfast.
The chicks were spared having to find their own food when Mom appeared. The chicks are old enough now that they really hound the parents. They’ll nip at a parent—around the face and neck if they can reach them, or at whichever feathers are closest. The parents will surface, quickly toss the food in the direction of the chick and dive again to avoid being pinched. This chick has spotted Mom with a meal and is kicking up a pretty good wake as he closes in on Mom.
After Mom provided several meals for each chick, she tried to preen. But the chicks weren’t convinced that breakfast was over and were following and pinching her.
Mom just handed off a meal to this chick and is trying to go about her business. The chick is close behind, just in case she forgot he exists.
I waited a time after the wind picked up. Neither chick showed an inclination to try flying so I headed in.
That evening I headed back to the river to see if the green heron would cooperate this time.
A few feet south of the heron’s favorite downed tree perch, I found the great egret had returned. I stopped to get some shots of him.
After a couple minutes I looked for the green heron and found this black-crowned night heron strutting his stuff along the shore.
He stopped to look and listen for a meal.
Something caught his attention and he started stalking it. He was working his way down the shore towards the egret.
The egret was settled on his perch. The egret was tracking the heron, the heron hadn’t spotted him yet.
Ahoy mate! What are you doing here? The heron came around some brush and found the egret.
The heron studied the situation for a moment before deciding to play through.
The black-crowned night heron took up position not far from his favorite tree to see what else the smorgasbord had to offer.
Hearing a splash, I turned around to find Hank himself foraging behind me. He was unsatisfied with the service and promptly moved on. A couple minutes later, the green heron agreed and flew off in the opposite direction. The egret moved to a perch with a branch right in front of him. There was a thick cloud just above the horizon. When the sun went behind that, I figured I was done for the evening and decided to head in.
There’s one channel out of the marsh back to the main river. As I came through the cattails, I found the black-crowned night heron foraging on a sandbar (Are there mudbars? That would be more accurate.) He was only a few feet from where I came out of the reeds. I figured there was no way not to flush him. He looked up briefly, decided I was boring and went back to foraging.
He caught a little fish – barely visible in the air in front of him. I have no idea why he spit it out. But that was one lucky fish.
Working along the shallows, he soon was able to catch a stick. The stick proved not to be to his liking and he gave it a good thrashing before tossing it.
A little further along, he nabbed another stick. This one also displeased him and it, too, was thrashed.
The little branches sticking up on this stick were also in for a thrashing. This guy was tough on them all. But, to be fair, the sticks had it coming.
Through with the sticks, it looked like it was to be my turn for a thrashing……
He walked towards me and hopped up on a log in the mud – too close for my lens to focus. Fortunately, I had a shorter lens with me. He spent some time trying to grab dragonflies out of the air.
And some time debating if he could nab me……
Luckily for me, he decided he was in the mood for seafood.
The sun was dipping below the hills to the west; I’d fed the mosquitoes their fill; it was time to head home.
As always, stunning photos!
Thank you for the beautiful update. Fall is a coming.
Glory, I love these stories! Please keep it up.