Heron heroics

June 1, 2013

     The dog is in his glory, as my mother used to say, since he gets run of the dead end street, keeping track and control of everyone who is out and about, including the black squirrels. He was gifted a bone from the local infamous butcher and gnawed it down to a sliver in a few short minutes. Since my nephew and sister have left, however, he will have to be satisfied chasing a ball tossed heartily by a Chuck It (since I can't be responsible for my lame throwing arm) down the street versus getting a good long stroll around the wooded neighborhood. My foot is still wrapped and I am on crutches, my father has a pained knee from a bad fall on black ice this past winter. We are a pair! I have gotten begrudgingly accustomed to a more sedentary lifestyle and have to be vigilant about eating accordingly. Drat!
     My father is a sweet eater, particularly a chocolate fan. Everyone comes to the house bearing gifts of dark, rich chocolate, hoping he remembers to be generous and share. The smarter ones in the clan bring two of everything, one to hoard and the other to open immediately and devour. Brats are another given in the household. Butcher store bratwurst boiled in beer then tossed on the grill with a side of locally brewed beer are delicious.
      Dad shared a story over breakfast of a Great Blue Heron, that came up into the yard the other day, to stalk the chipmunks and squirrels under the bird feeder. He/she waited patiently (or I assume so) until a critter came within reach. The chipmunk was caught, though furiously attempting to bite the assassin, vigorously tossed around then carried to the lake, sloshed back and forth until it stopped wriggling and gulped down in one bite. The bird then sauntered back up to the spot under the feeder but all of the rodents were wary by then so it meandered to the neighboring yard to try it's luck there.