Hapless Herons

At the end of my street in Beacon Hill Park is Vancouver Island's largest heron colony. Each year, dozens and sometimes over a hundred herons come to this stand of Douglas firs to nest from February through June.


Julian at the entrance to the heronry.

It's quite a spectacle. The birds build their nests high in the trees and can be seen on flying material-gathering trips all around the park and the neighborhood. But it's not all, so to speak, ducks and bunnies. If you believe in reincarnation I suggest you pray not to come back to life as a heron. For many, babyhood is nasty, brutish, and short.


Another egg on the ground.

The eggs are attacked by other birds and the ground is littered with their broken blue shells. As I write this, I see from my window a bald eagle circling just south of the colony. When the babies hatch, the eagle shows up at least once a day for a snack. In an effort to protect their young, the herons rise up and circle around, crying out in alarm. The scene is extraordinary and resembles a flight of pterodactyls. Many of the babies who survive the eagle are summarily pushed out of the nests by their siblings. The results are quite grim.

It's not all bad, though. One heron apparently survived such a descent some years ago. He has never joined the other herons but lives full-time in the park, often standing by the bus stop and posing for pictures (really!). Park employees christened him Henry. It's pretty amazing to see this annual pageant of birth and death playing out in the center of our city.


Henry in a contemplative mood gazing out over the duck pond.

You can see the colony on the heroncam