What’s the deal-ee-o?

“Why are we stopping?”

I shrugged, “I dunna know.”

I pulled the car over onto the grass behind the others.  Diane, Catherine and Christopher peered through the tinted windows at the marsh.  Frowning, I stared out the driver’s side window at the house across the street.  There was a young person lying on a love seat behind a firepit apparently sleeping in the blazing afternoon sun. Caught up in the human drama out my window: Was she drunk? Was that a dog with her? She was definitely going to be burnt to a crisp in this sun; I was brought out of my reverie when car doors started to slam.  As the cry of “Yellow-crowned Night-heron” filtered down the line of cars; birders hopped out and started rifling around in the back of cars for scopes, bins and cameras.

Birders with bins

I was surprised to look across the marsh to see the Night-Heron not tucked into the weeds and grasses with only it’s head showing, but standing out in the open. I had only seen this once before at a park in New Orleans.  Like the NOLA bird, this one was hunting for a little morsel of something.   As we watched, it darted down and came back up gulping.

YC Nightheron

One of my favorite YCNH fun facts. They eat {{shiver}} leeches. Thank goodness something does.

This was but one stop on the Connecticut meet-up.  Huge round of applause for Luke leading (that’s him in the blue sweatshirt) and knowing where to see Night-Herons hanging out snacking on crab.

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3 Comments

Filed under Local schmocal

3 responses to “What’s the deal-ee-o?

  1. Was she drunk? ROFL. What can I say I’m easily side tracked…..

  2. I’m with Owlman. Did she get burnt? Did she respond when everyone lept from their vehicles shouting about herons?

    I’d LOOOOOOOVE to see a YCNH . . . especially eating leeches! Shudder, indeed!

    • Actually she did rouse and go in the house. But when we started to hang out across the street she came out on the porch and stood staring in disbelief. As for the drunk part, I can only say she looked, well, disheveled.

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