While reading the newspaper this morning, the Missus alerted me to the fact that the heron had landed in a tree in the neighbour’s back garden. While I say “the heron”, I am sure it could be a different heron, but the fact that the same species of bird keeps landing in our vacinity makes me believe that this is the very same animal and so therefore I will continue to call him “the heron” as if he is an old friend of sorts. Anyway, I didn’t have my camera to hand so I darted upstairs to fetch it and hurtled back down again. As I just lined up the camera to take the shot, the heron flew off. I am sure that he saw me and was having fun at my expense. The last time I managed to photograph him was on a neighbour’s roof. The really great thing about the hero is the size of these birds. Most wild birds in the gardens of Great Britain are titchy in comparison. Take the blue tit, which is as bit as my thumb or maybe a wood pigeon which is a little larger. When the heron lands, you notice it because of the size. It’s arrival in the garden is majestic and it’s size intimidating. I’ll get a picture of him, I swear by Ahab’s beard.
In the post: Fission Trip Vol 1 CD and Robert Fripp’s Love Cannot Bear album. One album is not bad, one album is an absolute stinkfest. Can you tell which is which?

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