I have a dog, so I do a lot of dog walking… Every morning, that's right...every morning including Saturday mornings, while more sensible people are sleeping, or whatever sensible people do at 6:30 on a Saturday, Ned and I have a quick jaunt through the graveyard, head up the road, through the park, and then stroll round the reservoir.
Did I say reservoir? Well it is to us, to other people it’s a mucky looking pond.. so spotting a heron there last year was a Good Thing. A sign that the mucky pond could support life. There had to be enough fish to make it worthwhile for a bird that size to hang out all day.
Ha! What I don’t know could make wise men weep.
There are other dog walkers, Let’s call one of them Norrie. Norrie’s an old guy. I’ve clocked that he wears a Marie Curie sweatshirt. Cancer’s a small world. He might have clocked my Maggie’s Centre bag. But we‘ve never gone into the details. We don’t know each other that well, and I’d have to yell questions into his hearing aid. So we were sticking to pleasantries till yesterday.
It is that!
Aye, the heron’s back.
It is, yeah
We check out the heron poised at the top of the pond.
Aye, that’s him lookin’ fur the baby ducks, ken.
The baby ducks???
Aye, see how it’s just the men ducks out there? He’s waitin.
Herons eat baby ducks?
That’s life, hen. If it wisnae him, it’d be some other bloody thing