We were staying in a cottage right on Welcome Beach, Halfmoon Bay, where the view is restful and the sunsets phenomenal. Each evening, Maggie and I took a stroll along the beach just as the sun was slipping behind Thormanby Island, painting the sky and the bay golden yellow.
Just down the way lived a member of the BC Coast Guard, and a small inflatable boat was always at the ready, insignia visible, securely anchored near the shore. One evening, I spied a heron on the boat:
He stared with great concentration at the line connecting boat to buoy. I'm not sure if he was debating the merits of stealing the craft, or pondering what life would be like if he didn't have to flap his wings to move from location to location. I'm hoping it was the latter and that the Sunshine Coast doesn't have a gang of boat-thieving herons in its midst.
|Hmmm.....bowline, I think. |
Rabbit comes up the hole, round the tree, down the hole and back up again.
Yes, it's a bowline.
After giving his attention to the anchor line, he strutted from the bow to the stern, to have a look at the motor and determine how to start it.
|Looks like I need to pull that cord right there.....|
I'm quite sure he envisioned his life as a sailor, proud captain of his ship, the ocean breezes ruffling his feathers as he loudly sings his favourite sea shanties:
|♫ Oh blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down,|
To me way-eye, blow the man down... ♫
Of course, in time he would run out of fuel. Before long, he would himself be the object of an air-and sea search, needing rescue from a heartless sea.
|Hey! Ahoy there! Mayday! Mayday!|
|Down here! Haaalp!|
I'm pretty sure he might rethink his dreams and be content to travel with his own wingpower, sheltering where he wishes, flying when he wants.
But even a heron can dream.