Photo and story by Bill Hampton of Lewisburg
A welcomed visitor from “up north” stops by for a brief visit while passing through Lewisburg. September is a little early in the season for leaf watchers but it is prime time for our avian friends on their semi-annual migratory flight. Autumn is the season to head south; conversely, spring is when the north is calling. Personally, I think a lot of smart birds just like coming to visit the Mountain State for its beautiful mountain views and a fresh fish or two from our abundant ponds, streams, rivers and lakes. West Virginia is home to us Mountaineers, but we are a little out of the way for most migratory fowl.
The two closest major Fly Ways, (that’s bird talk for highways), are the Atlantic Flyway and the Mississippi Flyway. West Virginia is dead center in the middle of those two migratory paths but Mountaineers are accustomed to, and I think appreciative of the fact, to be planted on “the road less traveled.” I say a hardy, “Welcome to our visitors!”
Pictured is a Great Blue Heron, according to my expert consultant, “Google Lens,” who helps me identify and appreciate things that I see and wish to know more about. But Google Lens didn’t tell me if this majestic creature is the male or female of the species. I suppose it’s not of critical importance that I know that, but I’m guessing she’s a girl. Why, you may ask? Because she’s blending into the scenery and almost camouflaged which helps her hunt, fish, nest, and protect her young. As a general rule the males, in the avian species, are the brightly colored, maybe even flamboyant ones. I was taught that the males would visually distract predators from their nests, while the moms protected the babies under their wings. That explanation stuck with me through the years because it made sense to me.
Blue herons aren’t “rare” around our region, but they are much less noticeable than, say, crows, blue jays, cardinals, robins, English sparrow, etc. Blue herons often blend into the cat tails, reeds and shoreline vegetation and go unnoticed until they take flight. When they gracefully lift off they almost always capture my attention and for a few moments give me an awestruck appreciation of nature. In that moment I want to shout, “Hey, wait a minute, come back here, I didn’t get a chance to take your picture or see you catch a fish!” That’s a feeling that is the polar opposite of how I feel about blue jays and their tendency to raise a ruckus, screeching over a nearby squirrel or most anything else that moves.
So then, for now, welcome to Lewisburg our feathered friend. Enjoy a fresh fish, our cool water and some say our “coolest small town” and I hope to see you again in the spring as you pass by heading back “up north!”
