"Fishing-long-legs"

Is the name Pentaquod gives to the Great Blue Heron in James A. Michener's Chesapeake. I started reading the book last weekend. The bird is a recurring character in the epic novel, just as it is still very common here on the Bay. In fact, it's become a symbol of conservation because Blue Herons were nearly wiped out a few decades ago. They're back in abundance. They are fairly common on the TVA lakes back in Tennessee as well, but they are also very wild there. There's nothing quite so startling as spooking one of the large birds while fishing a deep, quiet Tennessee cove. When they take flight they are very noisy and look gangly and awkward. They almost always punctuate their liftoff with their signature, "krahnk, krahnk, krahnk."

Tonight, I decided to try and catch a few perch off the dock. There are lots of crabs now and I've been using the plentiful perch to bait my traps. The fish were biting pretty good and I was enjoying catching them when a Blue Heron flew right up and landed on the dock in front of me. He paid me little mind and I sort of enjoyed watching him as he stood motionless staring down into the rising tide. I thought it interesting that we were both after the same quarry. Dianne noticed and came out with her camera. I caught a fish before he did, so I threw it out on the dock toward him. He looked at me for a little while, then strutted up to the fish. He poked at it with his long yellow beak to make sure it was still alive, then stabbed it clear through. Next, he threw it up into the air and caught it head first, swallowing it whole in one swift motion. Satisfied, he walked back to his perch and resumed his fishing. I couldn't resist throwing him a couple more, noticing he was becoming a little more comfortable approaching me. Finally, I caught a really nice sized perch. He watched me reel it in and started walking toward me before I even had it off my hook. I threw it right out to him. He poked at the big fish then stabbed it three or four times. Taking it back to the end of the dock, he dropped it and sized it up for several minutes before picking it up and positioning it just right in his beak. After a few more minutes he threw back his head and took a big, pronounced gulp. I could see the fish still flopping as it slid down his long throat. I thought maybe he'd fly away since he had to be pretty full, but he merely resumed his fishing. I'll look for him again tomorrow night. I wonder if I've made a new friend? -S