First rain
the gophers clean their houses,
stack tailings high
where the Great Blues wait,
stand like statues,
like soldiers across the pasture
for the slightest movement
of well-worked mounds
to stab a meal—then toss it up,
catch open-beaked
and let it slide
down a snaky neck.
My father loved them,
loved the fact
they were working for him.
drycrikjournal 
Wish we had a few of them over here at my place!
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Before Terminus Dam, their rookery was in the sycamores on Dry Creek. You might see as many as a dozen at once awaiting breakfast in the pasture in those days.
Since, the Great Egrets have arrived and emulate the herons to some extent. The number of herons has decreased substantially since I was once a boy.
Not sure how it all works, but I’m always pleased to see the herons.
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Merry Christmas from your friend over in New Mexico- Marla Painter
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