Alone on the River (SWF)

Alone on the River




Great Blue Heron in tree

See more Skywatch here.

Cryptic faces (SWF)

Cryptic- Zoology (of coloration or markings)
serving to camouflage an animal in its natural environment.

Heronry

Resting on the bank for lunch, we gazed across the water of a narrow channel past what had appeared at further distance to be the old, weathered nests of herons, tucked high in a small cluster of snags standing in shallow water. All of great size, now reflecting their brightly white tangles of sticks in midday sun.
It seemed, as we examined with binoculars the water extending several yards beyond, that we could sneak outside the lake proper, float along the shaded creek from which the water entered, and avoid the heat of the day.


Then, on the lowest of the three messy platforms, a silhouette stood—and stepped awkwardly around its rim, before settling itself again, below the edge of the nest.
Soon, the hint of another feathered brown shoulder, as its sibling turned itself more comfortably, then wove its long white chin into the tangle of knobby white sticks.

(all photos enlarge with click)
Do you see what mother has left for them?

And, quickly finishing our last bites, we scooted off toward the towering platforms, glided quietly past, and looked up into the faces of four!

Great Blue Heron chicks in nest,
Cave Run Lake, Kentucky

See more Skywatch here.

A paddle for a pole...anyone? (SWF)

Double-crested Cormorants
Phalacrocorax auritus

In many ways, a similar day at Dillon, from April’s unwoken landscape, to this day in June—the sky, clouded and white, as we floated out beyond the noise of the beach onto gunmetal water, Red Canoe’s first voyage of the season.
Barely clearing the broad sandy bottom, we made our way to the narrow deeper channel, access to the river upstream, while, with each firm stroke forward against the shallow middle water, great fish swirled beneath us. At times, it would have been easier to stand and step out, drag Red Canoe and its duffels of snacks and drinks past the chocolate brown, ankle deep swirls. But what couldn’t be seen, and what darted ahead with each surge, carving giant arcs with large dorsal fins as bow fishermen silently launched arrows in pursuit, kept us firmly seated, feet dry, poling until we could paddle again.

Great Blue Heron
Ardea herodias

Once finding the channel, the water cleared, allowing boats to pass easily, and us to escape beyond them, further upstream.
Cottonwoods, casting small fluffy seeds to float like snow upon the surface, stood back from the water’s edge.
Willows drank at the shore.
And, every so often, a tent peeked out from tall grass—its access road, quiet, paralleling the lake edge. A pickup parked on uneven ground.


On this first stretch of summer warmth, the water is welcome—drawing all sorts to its teeming basin.
But it seems we are in the minority, without bait, bobber or bow.






Even the birds are fishing.

Common Terns on log, adult with juvenile,
Sterna hirundo

Dillon Reservoir

We watched Common Terns and a Caspian Tern fish in the shallows of the lake at Dillon State Park. Scanning several feet above the surface, they would suddenly turn and drop, plunging vertically into the water to grab fish, then again rise to fly on.

See more Skywatch here.

Let us give thanks.

Sometimes it's not what did happen that makes us thankful--
it's what could have, but did not. ~me

(Great Blue Heron?)