I’d been watching the nest with three Great Blue Heron chicks off and on for a half hour and one of the chicks was getting more adventurous.
The other two were content with their wingercizing but this one was thinking about the big one.
The other two looked on curiously, but were not interested in joining in.
I looked away to check out some Anhinga chick squawking and it had happened! I couldn’t spot him at first, expecting that he’d have gone to the right. Instead he had flapped up to a branch about 15 feet away.
This got his siblings’ attention and they gave him the once over when he returned to the nest a few minutes later.
I heard them way before I got to the swamp: they were squawking the way they do when a parent has brought food. Instead of feeding, the scene when I got there was more like a human telling his sibling what’s what.
You could practically hear “You’re not the boss of me!”
I’m not sure if this was backing down or just requisitioning.
And as is often the case with humans, it was all over a couple minutes later, apparently with no harm done.
A lone adult, perhaps from this nest, stood with a tired look at the edge of the pond. The adults all around the rookery are starting to look like they have had enough.
This single Great Blue Heron chick has gotten a rough start in life and hasn’t seemed to be thriving as well as those in nearby nests. On my most recent pass by his nest he was up doing some wingersizing, which is a hopeful sign.
The adult wasn’t paying him any attention, which isn’t unusual, but without any siblings to interact with he’s got to poke at his parents once in awhile.
This nest is in the same tree as the multiple Great Egret nests. This fellow’s next challenge will be to fend off those chicks and their parents once they notice he is there. Last year the GBH chicks in this nest hatched much earlier than the Great Egret chicks so they had more of a size advantage. And there were two of them.