Beware The Yellow-Crested Night Heron

Back when we were poor, each night I walked to a dock on the Ribault River and cast a net all night to catch enough shrimp to feed my family the next day.

Yes, I lived as a food-gatherer in our high-tech society.

But, we survived.

Back then, I often saw different species of waterfowl lingering over the marshgrass hunting food just like I was. In the small hours of the morning, mist rose off the dark waters and I’d hear the grunt of gators seeking mates or prey. On full-moon nights, the mist glowed with haunting beauty and no soul in the world seemed alive except me and the herons.

Yesterday in a pity party as I licked my wounds feeling sorry for myself and regretting my failure as a writer , I thought about those birds—the Great Blue Heron, the Tri-colored Heron, and the Yellow-Crested Night Heron.

One night as I pulled in my net, I glanced toward shore to see a huge Great Blue Heron standing majestically in the shallows. I’m 5 foot, 11, and this silent bird stood a good six or eight inches taller than I am. It was the largest bird I’ve ever seen. The sight of this king of birds awed me. Perhaps as a Christian I shouldn’t admit this, but I felt strongly tempted to worship the creature.

The Great Blue Heron hunts passively. That is. the bird stands perfectly still in the shallow water watching for an unsuspecting fish, shrimp or crab to venture close. When one does, the heron snaps him up.

On the other hand, the Tri-colored Heron hunts actively and aggressively. No patient waiting for prey for him. No, he runs through the shallows squawking, splashing, flapping his wings as he runs. The commotion scares schools of fish into fleeing near the surface. And when they do, the Tri-Colored Heron gobbles them up.

Often as I cast my net, a Yellow-Crested Night Heron accompanied me. This thief crowed against my legs waiting for me to pull in my net so he could snatch shrimp out of the mesh before I could pick them up myself. I’d have to shove him out of the way to harvest my own catch and he appeared quite indignant at my interference. Of course, when I brought in a netfull of pogies, small trash-fish, I’d throw the old Mafioso a couple as an extortion tithe for doing business in his domain.

I’ve been mulling over my encounter with the Butterfly Girls on Monday. They really pointed up my failure and the uselessness of my work—if you can call it work. Dabbling at writing may be a more appropriate term.

I go through such depressed mulling about my life and work often. And as I enjoy my wallow in self-pity I always eventually conclude the same thing: I do what I do because I do it.

But thinking about book sales made me remember the three types of Herons.

I am a lazy passive hunter like the blue heron. I stand still as a statue waiting for some reader to venture close and buy one of my books.

The Butterfly Girls resemble the Tri-Colored Heron—splashing and running and creating a commotion to scare up business.

There exists a thriving industry of cheaters who make their living preying on unwary writers. They resemble thieving yellow-crested night herons lurking to snatch away what you have legitimately caught

I am not sure the ladies heard anything I said the other day, but I did advise them to consult the Writer Beware website at http://www.sfwa.org/for-authors/writer-beware/ . A Google search for Writers Beware brings up a host of related or similar sites.

Writer Beware tells about various scams instituted by scurrilous companies and individuals that pretend to help writers, but only cheat and steal. These vicious predators have discouraged many a new writer and chewed up his dreams. They not only take the money but suck dry the soul.

So, I may not be much of a writer or book salesman myself—I’m just one voice crying in the wilderness, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord”.

But, at least I can warn other writers: Beware The Yellowed-Crested Night Heron.