My Yearly Fall Pilgrimage to the Russian River at Asti (a photo-essay)

About this time each year, we here in Sonoma County are usually blessed with a couple of weeks of "Indian Summer" (a fact for which yours truly is eternally grateful)...

As the harvest of the wine-grapes in the vineyards round about us goes forward with military-like precision, I have made it a ritual over the past three years or so to find my way down to that part of the Russian River (the largest river in these parts) that winds its lazy way through the almost now non-existent town of Asti -- site of the former "Italian Swiss Colony" winery of "That little ole winemaker, me!" fame -- where the "summer bridge" enjoys its last days before being closed off for the season...

Soon the River -- swollen with winter rains -- will make the way impassable for vehicular traffic:

There is a golden quality to the afternoon light this time of year that shows in each photograph like a wash of brass color that saturates the landscape and everything upon it...

I usually wade out to one of the odd, volcanic-appearing rocks in the middle of that part of the River

to sit with my camera and dangle my feet in the water -- relishing the heat as I try to imprint each sight, each sound and sensation upon my mind's eye and file them away to have them at the ready -- to be pulled out, revelled in and cherished during those dark, cold, short days of winter that I dread so much...

Here beside the cool, green river this time of year, I have learned to expect the flash of stark black and white feathers which is the "black phoebe" -- a bird curiously absent from around "the ole singlewide" where we live just up the road.

This year the "palmated plovers" I have noted in years past were curiously absent -- or else their normally exquisite natural camouflage was more refined than ever this year. I'm not sure which.

I did have a most enjoyable encounter with a very imposing crawdad, though, that I named "Big Daddy" after the character in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof". He looked as though he was quite capable of being any number of young crayfishes' "daddy" -- big as he was...

But I was so excited when a most welcome visitor flew up and perched on the branch of tree not too far away and allowed me to photograph him! An avian friend that I have been hoping would grace me with his presence ever since I caught a very quick glimpse of him (or one of his family, perhaps) one morning about 2 years ago as I crossed the summer bridge in my Jeep: The green heron.

I was further enthused by a most striking and impressive artistic rendering of one of the green heron's ilk online at one of my favorite birdwatching sites slanted towards our local wildlife here in Sonoma County -- called "2 Bright Birders" -- by the wife-half of the couple who run it.

I reproduce it here with full credits to Marian Ellis -- a fantastic artist and extremely knowledgeable bird-lover:

(Above: Green heron rendered by M. Ellis one of two local birding bloggers at The American Birding Guide website. You can access her original image HERE .)

After seeing her wonderful painting, I vowed to make it one of my birding goals to see (and attempt to photograph) one of these beautiful birds in person one day and it appeared, as I sat there with my legs dangling in the water of the Russian River at Asti, that goal was within reach. I stealthily pulled my trusty Canon from its case and snapped a few shots of this magnificent bird:

and smiled as I watched the green heron in the tree watch me...

I couldn't have asked for a better gift than this... My sadness at summer coming to end forgotten in my excitement at this glorious visitation...

When I returned home, I consulted Ted Andrews' book "Animal Speak" to gain further insight into the meaning of this gift that I had so long envisioned.

Mr. Andrews tells us that the "keynote" of the heron is: "Aggressive self-determination and self-reliance" and goes on to say that they "stand out in their uniqueness".

In particular, he says, the green heron's color combination "reflects an innate balance at living life in its own unique style". He urges those who have encountered the magic of the heron to trust their "own innate wisdom to know what is best for them and follow it rather than the promptings of others".

I'd say that pretty much sums me up -- in a nutshell...  ;o)

'Til next time, precious Gatherers...

From the ole singlewide here in the wild hinterlands --

luv,

jean  :o)