I call him my crane but he’s not mine and he’s actually a heron, not a crane. And actually, ‘he’ may be a different one each time he comes by. And he may even be a she. Confused?
It all started when we first began, many years ago, spending a month or so at the beach every summer. I would notice a crane fly by after supper. (I called it that, not knowing that it was a heron and the name has stuck.). He (or she) would stop on a sandbar just up from our cottage for a few minutes, fly to the next one closer to us and then usually stop right in front of us in his flight back to Shediac Island – again a supposition.
Every evening we would watch for the crane. My children would call out while playing, “Mom, there’s your crane!” And we would all stop and watch. They’ve accused me of stalking him in an effort to get a good picture. Cranes are not an easy subject for a novice photographer to capture. They like to keep their distance.
So again this year, we watched, enjoyed, and stalked the crane. The things you do in summer…..