Great Blue Herons

Sometimes when I run into people at St. Marks NWR they notice my binoculars and ask, “Have you seen anything rare?” I know that they’re just trying to be friendly, and I’ve chased more than a few rare birds in my time, but especially as I grow older, I find significant satisfaction in the observation of common bird species.

Great Blue Herons are the largest wading bird in North America. Their breeding range extends from Alaska to Cuba and Canadian breeders have been tracked migrating nonstop off the Atlantic coast for 36 hours from the Maritime provinces down to South Florida. As waders go, they’re your weird uncle Ralph, mostly keeping to themselves. Great Blue Herons are often heard calling in the night as they forage alone hunting for fish, reptiles, amphibians or small birds. 

I was out one day doing a duck survey on the back side of St. Marks. It was a brisk early morning, just after sunrise. I had stopped on the outer levee and had just started slowly scanning from right to left, counting ducks, when I saw a Great Blue Heron bent over with its beak in the water. He had something big. I stopped for a second to watch, but the heron didn’t move and I continued to scan and record my duck sightings, mostly Blue-winged and Green-winged Teal.

Finishing the arc of my scan I swung the scope back to see what the heron was up to. It had raised its head and I could see that it had speared a large fish through the belly. I cranked the power up on the scope and identified the heron’s prey as a foot-long Large-mouthed Bass, a catch of which any fisherman would be proud.  The bass was still alive, but getting weaker. As I watched, the heron carefully shook the bass loose, dropped it in the shallow water and immediately grabbed it and pulled it back out of the water.

The heron was now holding the bass sideways in its beak with the fish’s head hanging out on one side and the weakly flipping tail on the other. The heron juggled the fish until the fish’s head and tail were lined up for swallowing head-first in order to avoid the sharp tips of its fins. The heron leaned its head back and made a few attempts to swallow the bass, but it had positioned the bass on its side and the fish was too wide. The heron leaned forward to reposition the bass letting it slide down to the tip of its beak but still holding it by its head.

At this point a Bald Eagle showed up in the scope’s visual field, hovering in front of the startled heron. The eagle’s talons were extended, trying to grab the bass. The heron dropped the fish, but stood its ground squawking and arching its neck to strike at the eagle with its dagger-shaped bill. The eagle reconsidered. I briefly looked up from my scope and watched the eagle fly off. He had given up.

Returning to the scope, I saw the heron bent over pushing water lily pads around as it searched for the bass. Finding it, the heron picked up the fish and flipped it so that the bass was oriented head-first. With much head-swinging and jerking, the heron moved the bass down its beak, tilted its head back and stopped. The fish was now in almost the same position that it had been in before the eagle had showed up. However, instead of being sideways the fish was oriented top up. While the heron’s mouth could not open wider, limited by the width of its jaws, perhaps its gullet could stretch enough vertically to allow the heron to swallow the big fish.

The heron began to shake, shimmy and wobble. Suddenly the fish disappeared except for its tail visible in the heron’s open beak. The heron’s neck had a large bulge. The heron stretched its neck, moved from side to side and the bass slid down. The bulge in its neck was gone. I watched the heron for a few minutes. It was opening and closing its beak and swallowing. Then, with a full belly, it just stood resting quietly in the morning sun. I tossed the scope and datasheet into the back of the SUV and moved on to continue my duck survey.

Great Blue Herons are always at the refuge. Sort of background birds, present, but unappreciated. Watched more closely though, they can be fascinating.