Just spotted one of these while out jogging in Central Park:
The Heron, Theodore Roethke
The heron stands in water where the swamp
Has deepened to the blackness of a pool,
Or balances with one leg on a hump
Or marsh grass heaped above a muskrat hole.
He walks the shallow with an antic grace.
The great feet break the ridges of the sand,
The long eye notes the minnow’s hiding place.
His beak is quicker than a human hand.
He jerks a frog across his bony lip,
Then points his heavy bill above the wood.
The wide wings flap but once to lift him up.
A single ripple starts from where he stood.
Louis Proyect: The Unrepentant Marxist 
Are they rare?
Comment by Pandora — September 30, 2013 @ 12:36 am
Not rare in northern Minnesota but definitely rare in New York.
Comment by louisproyect — September 30, 2013 @ 12:54 am
Its a beautiful bird. Curious wings however for do not look real and much more akin to stylized feathers as might be found in art.
Comment by Pandora — September 30, 2013 @ 3:01 am
I like that poem. You can get a bit sick of bird poems, but one in isolation can be good.
Comment by godoggo — September 30, 2013 @ 8:10 pm