The boy lifted his head up. Looking over the river in which he stood on a small raft of rock and debris with his friend like a modern-day Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn on a river adventure. Did he see the blue heron gliding over the water with wings spread, landing a short distance away from him?
Blue Heron the River
Another angler had joined the two sturdy young boys on the river. The heron used his long legs and bill as expertly as a fly fisherman used a rod to catch fish. The blue heron seemed to blend in with color of the river a natural element in the ecosystem.The boy’s gaze returned to his task as he lifted his fishing rod and cast it with a sweeping arc into the coursing water. He was the taller, larger of the two standing out from a distance. The boys paid no attention to people fishing off the banks or to me snapping pictures. They were engrossed in fishing on an early autumn day.
Branches and mud collected in patches and between the stones in river and along the shore. They had to walk carefully navigating the current to reach a prime fishing spot in the middle of the river. No angler or large bird would make them sacrifice their spot. The heron took flight to move further up the river in search of fish. The boys turned their heads again forward and with swift thrusts of their hands skillfully cast their lines into the clear, cool water. They fished not far from a bridge that crossed the river and ran through a town.
In the Town
A town in a valley with farms and with hills colored green, gold by grain and crops. A town that had been there for hundreds of year in a river valley that been there for eons longer. Today the town celebrated the harvest. It was decorated with flower and scarecrows. Small merchants lined the streets to sell their wares. Music filled the air and the smell of food wafted from tents. Many people came to the festival.
Back at the river the boys were oblivious to activities going on in town. Under a blue sky, the boys continued casting their rods to catch fish.