Juneathon Day 13 - A heron and an airship

Juneathon Day 13 - A heron and an airship

Cycle - 16 miles, Time - 1hr 14min, Weather - some blue sky and clouds

My normal practise in Juneathon is to post a photo taken on the day but today is different. I needed a picture of a heron the latest one I have is this from a month ago. Nevermind, it will have to do.

On a single-track, country lane, around a bend I saw a heron standing in the middle of the road. As I approached he flew off a few yards further down the road and again stood in the middle. I slowed down and with as little movement as possible approached to see how close I could get. Close but not very close, then he flew away again and the game was repeated. After 3 or 4 goes he flew away over the fields but it left me with a smile.  Already this was a good ride and it showed the difference between what I do and training: I am happy with gentle diversions and am paying no heed to the clock.

After the heron there was another lull as I watched a proper airship moving slowly across the sky. I looked lovely, floating, almost still. Aeroplanes may rule the sky but they do not have the visual splendour of a blimp, gently moving at its own slow pace. They are also a reminder of a time, in the 1920s and 30s, when airships were seen as a vehicle for lang haul flights. The R101 was designed to link the distant parts of the Empire, such as India and Australia, and was huge. If you are ever travelling south of Bedford you will see the two Cardington airship hangers built to house the R101, loom up out of the flat landscape (a sense of their scale can by looking at the satellite view on Google Maps and compare the size of the village to the two hangers in the south west corner). For metal sheds they are awe inspiring.

There is a link between the two sightings: one of the reasons I find heron fascinating is that their gaunt shape makes it very easy to see how birds evolved out of dinosaurs, as for airships I think of them as mechanical dinosaurs of the sky.

What We Can See

"It is overcast this afternoon  and there is a fine, misty drizzle that feels fresh on my face. The still air amplifies the sound of water dripping on maple leaves. The leaves are still bright green, but will transform into a kaleidoscope of yellow, orange, red, salmon and purple in another week or two. The goldenrods along the dirt road are just starting to fade, and several species of wild aster are beginning to flower instead. I note the splashes of their lavender, purple, and blue flowers. There are usually bumble bees in these flowers, but today these cold-hardy bees remain torpid in their underground nests deep in the woods.
Watching a large orange and black monarch butterfly feeding at an aster, I wonder how much sugar it is getting from the nectar to fuel on this stop on its migration from Canada to Mexico. The butterflies like human ultramarathoners need regular refuelling stations. While it is warm and sunny, during the last couple of weeks, I've seen the monarchs floating by on lazy, soaring wing beats. These individuals are at least the third generation of those that left Central Mexico last spring to come north to breed. All of hem are now journeying to their communal wintering area in the cool mountains near Mexico City from where their ancestors had come. There they conserve their energy reserves through winter by literally putting themselves in refrigeration that slows their metabolic fires."

The extract is from the opening of a book called 'Why We Run' by Bernd Heinrich and describes the start of a run after a sedentary day. I quote it out of envy.

I wish I was a naturalist who could get all the juice from what I see: know the exact stages of the wildflowers and what they were, see passing animals and know their life cycle. But I am not. My eye for identification is pathetic and I have to rely on my wife to tell me which flower is which. She is not there on most of my runs. 

I do however have certain birds and animals that give me pleasure when I see them. Foremost amongst these are herons. They always lifts my spirits. I don't know why: probably something to do with the ungainly, boney shape that almost looks two dimensional. I doesn't matter. I know I like them and luckily they are a fairly common sight by the canal.

I saw this one yesterday. I was not running - but never mind; that is a mere detail.