The Great Blue Heron is a regal bird. It stands motionless for long periods of time scanning the shallows for frog morsels and small fish. It never hurries...and when it spots a meal...it nabs it with a sure and confident motion, so fast that the meal doesn't know what hit him. I love Great Blues. They are always a reason for celebration when they first show up flying in their deliberate undullating motion up the Androscoggan River. Such an important bird presence in my life. When Stephen and I first got together and let the love between us wake up, my sister Beth was beginning her long slow journey to the great beyond. It was a difficult time in my life, punctuated with the heavy pauses of guilt that were touched off by my good fortune in love developing as my sister began to slowly lose her life. Stephen and I met a woman who had MS and she was living alone in a daylight basement apartment in Marblehead. I was practicing massage at the time and because Beth had received a diagnosis of MS, something in my heart was moved by this woman and her story of being bedridden all winter and how she kept her spirits up. Stephen and I visited her and when she asked us to take her outdoors, we made a seat with our hands and carried her out to see the sky and smell the air for the first time in early spring and as we carried her outside, a Great Blue Heron flew over our heads and all three of us were moved. From that day on, whenever we see a Great Blue, it has the effect of lifting our spirits and making us feel like whatever is happening...its all right and good. A few weeks later, that woman left in an RV for Arizona and a changed life in a friendlier climate. Great Blues spend much of their lives in a solitary hunt for food. They are opportunists and they don't really sing so much as they bark. I had the chance to hear the Great Blue's call when we took our first paddle around North Pond in our new kayaks. We managed to paddle up close to a large adult and when we got too close for comfort...he let out a hoarse bark and lifted off with his stunning wings spread wide. The call he made reminded me of how close this bird seems to be to the dinosaur Pteradactyl. The call was out of another era. It made the goosebumps rise on my arms. When I began sitting yearly with a circle of Shamans, the Great Blue arrived with a lovely woman art teacher from the coast. She had heron wings and made a dance by herself under the double rainbow that graced our day. When Stephen had his bypass surgery, I had many birds show up to bless us with their presence. But Stephen's encounter with a Great Blue on the day of his first motorcycle ride after the traumatic opening of his sternum was so very special. He was actually riding the Harley up route 5 headed to Bridgton when he spotted a large Great Blue beside the road. As he closed in on it, the bird slowly took off and as it lifted, it touched Stephen's head with a brush of it's wing. It was a close encounter with grace and he felt touched by an angel upon having that encounter. He was moved to tears when he told me about it afterwards and it is a story I'll never forget. So...upon finishing my blanket of songbirds and a saw-whet owl, it seemed only natural to try my hand at felting a Great Blue for Stephen. And having found this beautiful piece of birch bark on a walk in the woods with the dog, it seemed like a perfect background to display it. My only problem is how to attach it to the bark. I think I'll try to sew it with embroidery thread and a blanket stitch but maybe, if that doesn't work, I'll glue it. I never seem to love my creations when they are first made. But they kind of grow on me after time and after my inner critic falls asleep. The Great Blue is lots bigger than the rest of my felted bird squares...and as I worked on it, I discovered the Cornell birdcam of the Great Blue nest so I could see the heron in it's full breeding plumage. He has two black feathers off the top of his head and lots of showy feathers off his chest and saddle. He is one fancy dude and now I think of him as riding the motorcycle with Stephen when he goes off alone. My Dad had a boat named The Heron...it was a double bowed dory or something just a little odd and one of my last photos of my sister before she got sick were of her sitting in the bow seat of that boat with a captains hat on...one of those portuguese fisherman hats that my Dad loved so much. It's funny how the brain makes connections between things...like Beth and Birds and Birch and Stephen and a Great Blue for a healer. Birds do a powerful job of constellating memories for me. As I think about each one, I can go on and on about how it has featured in my life as a message or as a messenger. If I listen..without rushing...what would they tell me about my life? Have I even really known a bird until I felt it?
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