[obol] A bird story

[Alan Contreras]

This came today from my cousin Maeona Urban, who lives in Scappoose.  She is
an excellent artist with an eye for detail.  The rest is self-explanatory.


"I was sitting in the dental chair last Wednesday looking out their picture
windows at the view and waiting for the dental hygienist to come in.  ...
The entire bank of chairs looks out over a small deck onto a seasonal pond.
A variety of tall trees and shrubs surround an area that has as much as
three feet of water in it during the wet seasons and can totally dry up by
the end of summer. 

This day the water had nearly all gone.  At the far side and to the left was
a shallow puddle area and closer by the deck and to the right, somewhat
blocked by shrubs, was another puddle.   The far tree line looked as if
someone had trimmed it evenly with clippers where the high water level
reached during the winter.  Under the edges of the trees the shadows were
exceedingly   dark and as I sat there I was trying to determine if a blend
of Vandyke Brown and Indigo would do justice to how deep it looked, when
there was a slight movement where the shadow edge met the mud flat.

The flat was only a tint lighter than the overhanging trees where the light
was beginning to penetrate through the leaves.  Then it moved rapidly to
where the shadow ended and it paused.  I leaned forward in the dental chair,
concentrating on the spot where I had seen the last movement.  It moved ever
so slightly into the light.  I couldn¹t distinguish it yet from the flats
other than it now made it¹s own tiny little Vandyke streak on the mud.  Out
in the light the semi-wet ground wasn¹t as gray and light as concrete but
neither was it as brown or dark as milk chocolate.  I could see something
now at a distance of; I¹m guessing 75 feet, which appeared to be just a
little smaller than a football.

Its next move was a rapid advance directly toward me of maybe only three
feet.  It was now in full sunlight and had a light grayish appearance on
it¹s back and darker underbelly.  At this point I¹m hoping it is not a large
rodent.  Since its movement had been directly toward me I still had no
silhouette to try to identify it.  Suddenly it darted to the left and
stopped.  I saw a bill much to long for it¹s body.  My mind identified it as
some sort of prehistoric bird, something from my grade-school evolution
theory books.  This of course raised my eyebrows and my interest.

Next it darted to the right and much closer.  I saw before me a gray fluff
ball with two tiny yellowish chicken-like legs, and a jousting pole for a
beak.  I now attempted an identification that wasn¹t from the stone ages.
It was a baby green heron.  It hadn¹t developed any real visible feathers to
speak of.  Its head and beak were too big for his body and his legs were too
short.  The ugliest cutest little thing I¹ve seen in ages.

At this point it ran up to probably no more than 20 feet from me where it
tiptoed into the waters edge at the near puddle.  It stood ever so still and
then speared at something it saw in the water.  Finally it moved in closer
where I could no longer see it through the shrubs at the edge of the deck
and the hygienist appeared to find my with a rather unnaturally satisfied
grin on my face for someone sitting in a dental chair."

-- 
Alan Contreras
EUGENE, OREGON

acontrer at mindspring.com
OREGONREVIEW.BLOGSPOT.COM

Nostalgic for Nixon....