Reluctant Climb to Blue Happiness

 The Blue Heron of Happiness Atop Tallac Knoll

Michael Sedano

Three mallard ducklings cut through Baldwin Lake’s green algae surface leaving a trail of open water in their wake. Algae quickly fills the gaps behind the ducklings, the sole bird life Thelma and I observe along this shoreline. 

Our previous visit to the Los Angeles County Arboretum in Arcadia, we’d twice come face-to-face with a magnificent Great Blue Heron. I’m hoping for another sighting today at the Turtle Pond. I hoped hard. I am daunted by thoughts of climbing the steps to the top of Tallac Knoll. 

Thelma and I point our way toward the Turtle Pond, a quarter-mile distant with a slight upgrade. I adjust the strap of my 300mm lens preparing to slide it off at first sighting. The blue could fly away when we arrive. More likely if it’s there it will tend to ignore me. A ver.

I don’t want to climb to the top of the knoll and the upgrade is a feature of the place but that’s where we need to be. I adjust the camera strap and pull the 300mm lens against me so it won’t bounce during the trek ahead. 

My eyes take in the road ahead. No shade at all every step of the way where we learn if that blue has hung around the Arboretum and is at the pond again.

The Arboretum’s eight-dollars-a-ride tram passes us on its way to the pond, the driver’s narrative keeps his tram entertained and informed. We pause. In a few moments the tram arrives at Turtle Pond. I watch with anticipation: will the driver stop and give his tourists a glimpse of a gorgeous water bird, my Great Blue Heron?

Thelma and I do an about face and head toward the herb garden. No heron today.

Suddenly a blue heron appears from the lake. It soars into the sky almost directly overhead, toward Turtle Pond. Then the magnificent silhouette wheels toward Tallac Knoll and its froggy feast.

Rustic cement steps twist and turn. The steps rise irregularly giving the ascent to the top of Tallac Knoll an extra measure of exercise. With urgency in my step as I pull myself up the handrail, I calculate the likelihood a crowd could spook the bird into flight. The Arboretum has good attendance today, but thankfully a sparse few appear as Thelma and I summit the knoll. 

The Great Blue Heron stands like a statue at the far bank of the narrow pond, waiting for a lens to point its direction.

Herons like to stand immobile for long passages of time. A twitch, a slow turn to the left or right offer more or less, the same picture. After long minutes the bird may lift a foot, stretch a bony leg, then freeze again. After some time, the bird will change locations and fly away in the blink of an eye, but not before a happy watchful photographer captures the despedida.

Today, the blue heron steps closer to my spot behind the rushes where frogs lurk. The creature resumes its statuesque pose. Slowly the heron does as herons do, it forms an “S” with its neck. When the bird straightens, we are face to face. The Great Blue Heron stares at me and gives me a yawing laugh.  

It has been a good day to climb to the top of Tallac Knoll.