Welcome home, Dad

The baby Great Blue Herons, fuzzballs only a few weeks ago, are taking on the look of gangly adolescents. They've stretched out to around two-thirds of adult size, they're flapping their wings more, and they're making an eternal, to say nothing of loud, racket that rings, or, better, squawks, over the Henne marsh. But one thing hasn't changed: they're still dependent on mom and dad for sustenance. I don't know whether the kids feel anything like gratitude, but when either of the parents sail home with a crop full of food, the folks couldn't help but feel needed. When I photographed this family scene, I thought of a book called The Hungry Thing that I used to read to my kids. It was about a creature who arrived wearing a sign that said, "Feed Me." The heronlets don't need a sign.