Saturday, 10 November 2007
A few weeks ago I was walking with Mollie at the beach in Flushing when on the very edge of the water I saw three large birds. They looked just like herons, but I’d only ever seen herons along the creeks.
I squinted at them: it was a hot day and the sun was slow, shining strongly in my eyes. I drew closer and, sure enough, there were three herons standing on the rocks at low tide. Mum, Dad and Littl’Un.
Of course you never have a camera when you want one, and herons being shy birds, they flew away before I could get too close.
I stood on the beach, watching as they flew to the top of a tall tree; the branches bending and swaying as they settled one by one. Standing on the beach I could only feel their absence, wished I could do more.
But it was the most magical sight. The sun bouncing off the water, turning the shadows black. The herons stood out in relief, like perfect statues, frozen in the sunlight. It was a sight that I hope I never forget.