Herbert the Heron

Mandy has decided that the Q dock heron here at Shilshole is named Herbert. I was thinking Henry, but whatever. He's a wily one, in his own way, so I haven't managed to snag a picture of him yet. At the same time, he's remarkably tame, and seemingly curious about us people and our strange ways. A couple days ago he scared the heck out of me as he blasted off with a godawful squawk from the next finger dock outboard of us when I was clambering out of our hatch early one morning bound for the restrooms. Coming back, he got me again, this time by perching atop a radome on a stern rail mast right next to a wind generator... in the half light, the silhouettes are remarkably similar and my mind just registered two generators there (as unlikely as that may be) until he blasted off.

Even when he isn't trying to scare you, Herbert is a little bit spooky. Last night I was coming back down to the boat after dark, and saw someone walking ahead of me down the float. Lighting along the floats here is from little lamps installed in the utility stations at the head of each slip pair, resulting in little twin puddles of light marching down the float in regular order. It's kind of dim and cool and hits people about waist level, allowing you to see them as a set of sort of disembodied legs either approaching or receding along the float ahead of you. So people look a little strange anyway, and it didn't hit me until I was within 60 feet or so that the guy walking down the float ahead of me was actually Herbert.

I slowed down a little bit, thinking I might get the drop on him and even up the score in the scaring the heck out of people game, but he knew right where I was. When I got within about twenty feet of him, he calmly turned off onto a finger pier and wandered down to where two neighbors were kicking back over beers, probably to try and bum a Coors off of them. He didn't say anything as I went past and I didn't either, and as I was packing my stuff down the companionway I saw him stalk past on the main float continuing his casual inspection out toward the end of the dock, sans beer. He didn't seem too put out, though, probably understanding it was always a longshot and that he would have had trouble carrying it anyway.

Lately he's been surprising me less often, as I am on to most of his hiding spots, but what with him being a bird and all, there's always the vertical option, and he can relocate from mast to mast in near-silence. Still, he hasn't been blasting me with that terrible noise even when he does get the jump on me, and I take it as a sign that we are now known and welcome inhabitants of his dock.

Whoop... he's squawking about something outside right now. Did Timmy fall down the well? I'd better go check.