My Feathery Friend

Over the Christmas holidays, Johnny and I spent a week at Pensacola Beach.  One morning I woke early, and thought, I’ll go out and see the sunrise.  We’d had a stunning sunset the night before, and maybe this sunrise would also be beautiful.  I made coffee, bundled myself up to handle the 35 degree windy weather and headed out to the beach.  I crossed the boardwalk and stepped out on the sand; the sky was still dark and cloudy, and the beach empty.   Sitting on the cold sand was out of the question, so I stood near the boardwalk to get a break from the wind.  A bit of white peeked out from the clouds on the horizon, catching on the break of the waves.

As I stood, waiting and watching, something caught my eye about 100 feet away, moving in the darkness near one of the farther boardwalks.   Slowly, a blue heron moved out into the open area in front of the boardwalk, his head tucked close to his body for warmth.   I was glad for his company, feeling the loneliness of the empty beach.  The heron flew down to the surf in front of me, mingling with a few sandpipers.  Then, he turned and started walking toward me, in his slow, stalking gait.  I froze, wondering, what’s he going to do?  Is he going to fly at me, peck me?  Beat me with his wings?  I resolved myself to accept whatever it was; it would simply be part of the experience.  But he stopped about 10 feet from me near my boardwalk, checking me out sideways with his yellow eyes.  I just stayed where I was, occasionally taking a sip of my coffee, looking back at him sideways.

The sunrise was a bit iffy.  The sky was only showing hints of white among the clouds, and my thin pants were no match for the winter wind.  I took another sip.  The heron flew down to the water’s edge, and walked out into the surf, poking around with his long beak.   Still, no one else had come out to the beach.

 

Suddenly, the heron stepped out of the water and again headed straight for me.  Uh oh, I thought, here it comes, the attack.  But the heron slowly passed right in front of me, stopping about 5 feet from me next to the boardwalk.  He turned, and faced out to the water.  I watched him, his long feathers blowing in the wind, his head tucked close to his body.  And he just stayed.  Every now and then, I’d look over and he’d catch my eye.  Or, at least, that’s what it looked like.  Minutes passed and we watched, the wind blowing, waves splashing, the morning light growing.  We stood together, companionably watching the sunrise, just the two of us.  I was really cold, but there was no way I was moving as long as he stayed. 

After about 15 minutes, the heron slowing stalked off, I guess to find some breakfast.  I watched him go, and, shortly after, went inside for my own breakfast.  I felt so blessed!  I will always be thankful he chose to join me for the sunrise that morning.