I won’t bore you again with my opinion of natural history photography (or birds on sticks, as a friend calls it). So I wasn’t overly excited about the prospect of photographing birds, birds, and more birds one chilly April day. However, when I got to Blackpool’s Stanley Park, there were Herons everywhere. And they were doing stuff.
Sure enough, there was an active colony (is that the right word?) of Herons maintaining a housing estate of nests, high up in the trees. There were chicks too. They had spiky hairstyles. I can’t think who they reminded me of.
Every now and then a bird would break ranks and fly over our heads. After a few close encounters I realised that I should be facing the other direction after each fly by, because, five minutes later they would be returning, probably with a bit of straw, or something fine and malleable.
Nope. These Herons were hard. They came back with bits of branch.