We exited and walked a few meters into the mixed forest. Looking up into two towering beech trees one could see tangled clusters of nests - not the neat tightly wound affairs like you see in a kids picture book. These were sprawling masses of twigs and branches. Their true size hard to judge by the fact that the nests rested precariously at least 30 metres above the ground. One tree housed what looked like 4-5 nests - the other a little bit further in had two or three. We sat and waited and within a few minutes we were rewarded by the awesome sight of an incoming Great Blue Heron.Over the nest few months I visited the rookery - home to 6 pairs of Great Blue Herons. I was lucky enough to see them flying in from time to time, lucky enough to (just) see the young ones get fed as the mother or father came home with a gullet of fish. I did not see any first flights - but hoped to one day.
Jim and I visited the rookery again a few weeks ago. We knew it would be too early - figuring that the Herons were still on their way up from the states - but being a hot spring day we thought it would be great to venture down some county and enjoy the warm sun. As we pulled up to the woodlot we sensed something was not quite right. Somehow the forest seemed a bit "thinner" and it wasn't just that the leaves were not out yet. We got out of the car and within a minute were aware of the sad truth. The majestic beech trees that had been home to a least 6 nesting pairs of Great Blue Herons had been chopped down. The trees themselves had been hauled away - the twigs and branches that made up the actual nests were nothing more than a barely recognizable pile of sticks.
It looks as if a number of trees on the woodlot had been culled - but why the two with nests in I could not understand. In the midst of our shock we also wondered about the birds winging their way north and what they would do once they found their familiar nesting site gone . .
