Hunting Herons

All of these great blue herons were hunting for voles in the meadows of Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge.

A great blue heron captures a Townsend's vole in its beak

It's Better To Be Lucky Than Good

Townsend’s voles live in the fields at Ridgefield, and I suspect you could track the natural ebb and flow of their population by the number of hunters out looking for them. It isn’t just herons that work these fields, as egrets, hawks, owls, harriers, kestrels, and coyotes all feed on the voles and mice here.

This particular heron seemed to be rather lackadaisical in its hunting and I figured it wouldn’t catch anything. But I was in a quiet mood and enjoying watching it, so I decided to just sit still for a while. After making a few half-hearted stabs at the ground, it wandered into the taller grasses where it was mostly obscured as it hunted low to the ground.

Suddenly it froze and began wiggling its neck, so I knew it wasn’t just goofing around and got my camera ready. I was confronted with the classic problem, do I shoot the picture as a horizontal or a vertical? There’s no way of knowing the best composition ahead of time since you don’t know what the heron’s going to do when after it strikes, but I went for the vertical since if it stayed low it would be completely obscured by the grass.

The heron found its mark and popped up vertically before swallowing the little vole, and I love the way the taller grasses in front envelop the heron in a sea of green. I got lucky on that morning but can’t say the same for the unfortunate vole.

Close-up view of a great blue heron swallowing a Townsend's vole at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge

Revenge of the Dinosaurs

Many people seem shocked by the idea that birds might have descended from a line of dinosaurs that didn't die out with the rise of the little furry mammals. Spend some time watching herons take their revenge on those little furry mammals and the idea doesn't seem so far-fetched.

This great blue heron had the most efficient hunting streak I've ever seen, I saw it strike the ground six times and catch something every time. Three times it caught a Townsend's vole like the one it's swallowing here, three times Pacific treefrogs. The little treefrogs hardly seemed worth the effort but I've seen herons catch them many times.

Weak and Soft-hearted

I have mixed feelings watching herons hunt for voles, on the one hand I'm fascinated by the patience and then swiftness of their attack. But my soft heart feels for the little mammals when I see their struggle and hear their panicked shrieks in the last desperate moments of their lives. And even though the ordeal lasts but a few seconds, in pictures their stares and cries haunt me in perpetuity. In consolation, from what I've read voles don't usually live more than a year anyway, so perhaps the herons aren't shortening their lives that much. At least it helps me sleep at night. ;)

A great blue heron catches a Townsend's vole in its beak at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge

Great blue heron hunting voles at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge

Great blue heron with a Townsend's vole in its beak at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge

Slow Steps

When it heard a vole, ths adult heron stepped towards the vole, slowly moving one leg forwards and then the other, its eyes never straying from its target. The herons caught a number of voles that morning.

Snared

The first time the heron caught this vole it didn't get a great grip. The vole struggled and eventually the heron dropped it, but the second strike snared the vole for good. The vole wasn't fighting nearly so much anymore, and a few seconds later the heron had flipped the vole into its mouth and swallowed it whole.

An adult great blue heron hunts in heavy fog at Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge

The Foggiest Idea

One of the things I've been trying to do this winter is take pictures at Ridgefield that tell the story of the refuge and the animals that live there. And one of those stories is the fog that often envelops the refuge on an early winter morning.

My original idea was to photograph the heron upright against the fog so its silhouette would be instantly recognizable — and I did take some pictures like that — but when the heron dropped into a horizontal hunting pose I loved the subtlety of the picture. Peaceful and tranquil yet a reminder that, visible or not, the life-and-death struggle never ends.