Summary
I CAME on a dead heron last weekend. It lay spread-eagled by the side of a lake so green it could have been a Radox bath. A disarray of duck feathers nearby suggested a fox had enjoyed a good dinner, but the heron had been left undisturbed.
It was a melancholy sight, one that left me feeling in some way diminished. Even in death there's a majesty and otherworldliness about these eery and exquisite creatures.See the full content of this document
Extract
Flocks of Bird Books Perch On the Shelves First Word
One measure of their grandeur is that the otherwise hard-hearted Alan Clark was reduced to tears by shooting a heron that was poaching his best fish. "I was already sobbing as I went up the steps, " he wrote in his d...
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