The heron approaches the black bird standing on a rock in the middle of a calm river carefully and tactically. As it gets closer, the black bird watches until it takes a step too close. It flaps its wings in disproval, and the heron backs away. They wait with each other, neither letting their guard down.
A runner in bright orange gear stops along the bank to take a picture, while a man pulls his beagle from the scene. A couple that has been sitting here longer than me watches the dance between the heron and the black bird, captivated by their performance. Back to back, the birds waddle around each other, the black bird firmly planted on the only rock above the waters edge. Only then did I realize that the heron was doing this because he wanted the rock for himself.
The heron tries to enter again, this time using his beak to try and nudge the black bird from his coveted position. The black bird protests in the same way, and the heron jests at a fight, desiring the rock but not wanting to fight for it. The heron slowly wades away in defeat, seeking a new surface to lift him out of the shallow water. As the show concludes, the couple stands up; the man brushes grass off the woman’s pants. The blue heron stops to watch. The couple embrace each other, smiling and kissing, feeling each other’s warmth. The heron and I are entranced by their performace, before slowly feigning back into the search for a new rock to land on.
And the proud black bird remains on his perch. He enjoys the warmth of the sun from his lonely castle, unreachable even for presumed enemies. The heron has now flown away, and the black bird plucks at his own feathers, throwing his head back to take in the golden light that was meant just for him. But after bathing in its rays, the only option is to once again lower his head into his breast and gaze at the lonely rock island.
Moovin & Groovin 