No matter what happens sometimes in the wild of the wilds, Papa God knows how to give good gifts…and memorable memories… often with a little twinkle in his eye
By Charles Towne
After spending a lifetime on the lakes and rivers of this grand country of ours, and rubbing shoulders with all sort of varmints, critters, and denizens, I must say that I really like great blue herons. They are stately and beautiful birds, almost regal in their bearing as they wade along searching for whatever luckless fish, crawdad, creepy crawly, hop frog, snake or other tasty tit bit that might attract their scrutiny.
When the fledglings are little, and unable to fly, the adult herons, being devoted and diligent parents, spend much of their time eating fish and whatever else might attract their attention. This mixture lies in the gullet of the parent bird, rotting and digesting into a delicious soup for the sweet little babies to slurp down. Mmmmm, good!
I had been hired by the state of Michigan to destroy several beaver dams that were causing flooding that had inundated portions of back country roads, and when I say destroy beaver dams, I mean DESTROY, like with dynamite, as in KABOOM! No more beaver dam! Boy, that was fun, and it didn’t hurt the beaver; just gave them cause to rebuild their dam. I guess you could say I was just offering them job security!
The subsequent flooding had caused a considerable lake to form back on the state land and the great blue herons had formed a rookery in the tops of the dead trees. And it wasn’t just any old rookery, no; it was a rookery to put all rookeries to shame! Over two hundred great blue heron nests and not one of those nests had less than two baby blue herons in it! You do the math.
Well, understanding that I really like blue herons, and also understanding that all babies are cute, I got this brilliant idea to go out there in my canoe, and photograph those adorable, sweet, little baby birds.
There I was, out on that lake surrounded by cute baby blue herons, when I suddenly noticed that all of those adorable baby birds, every one of them, were staring down at me with a rare and most unique hostility, and great malevolence in their evil little eyes. And then, as if on cue, they all evacuated their cute little bowels on me, and not a few of them regurgitated on me at the same time. Have you ever smelled the decisively putrid and disgusting odor of rotting fish that had been laying in repose in an advanced state of decomposition in the stomachs of a hoard of baby blue herons before?
Did I say that I don’t like great blue herons? Nasty, disgusting beasts they are, and endowed with an evil sense of humor.
As I swiftly and gagglingly paddled my canoe away from that rookery, I was certain that I heard angelic laughter wafting through the air; but then, just perhaps, what I heard was the sinister cackling laughter of all those foul fowls.
Papa God is not like that! He knows how to give good gifts, and I will say amen to that!
Charles Towne is first and foremost a Christian. An octogenarian, author, journalist, wildlife photographer, naturalist, caregiver, and survivor, his life has been and continues to be, a never-ending adventure filled with possibilities never imagined. He has adopted the philosophy that to Live fully, laugh uproariously, love passionately, and learn like there is no tomorrow, is a formula for a long and joy-filled life.