Once upon a time, in a swamp far, far away from the primordial swamp, there lived two white faced herons. In the middle of the swamp there was a small island.
This is that island with some silly goose wandering aimlessly about.
This is the white faced heron about which the story is told. This is a lady heron although she does not always behave with charm and gentleness. I will tell you more in a minute.
This is the gentleman heron. You will notice that he is on the bank of the swamp and she isn’t.
The two heron were recently married in a non-species specific ceremony to which nobody came. In fact neither of them were at the service, but they are now a couple. It all started a while back when some of the feathers on their respective tummies started to show a hint of brown. At first neither of the two took much notice.
But she started to get a feeling that she had been given the short straw. Back and forth she wandered, all over the island. Tidying up and muttering under her breath.
“Oy vay! What a mess this is. Here I am, in the prime of my life on a pig sty of a little island. And whats he doing? I’ll tell you what’s he doing! Nothing! That’s what’s he doing. Sitting on the grass twiddling his thumbs. That’s what’s he doing. And I’m here doing all the housework!”
“And then he wants I should welcome him when he come flying around!”
“Last time I told him exactly what I thought. I know what you’re after. I told him. All day you just sit and I have to tidy up the island. My sister over on the other island she’s got a nice island. But no! All you’ve got for me is a tiny little island with goose droppings and pigeons. That’s what I told him. Goose droppings and pigeons.”
“Get away. I got house work to do. And I got a headache.”
Meanwhile he is sent flying.
And all he has to do is practice his fishing.
And not even a fish. Just a few old leaves and rubbish. But he must get his eye in even although he has no idea why.
And then just sitting around. As she said. But what’s a bloke to do?
“You’d reckon all I can do is practice my scales. And I don’t have a piano. And I do so want to show her my new brown waist-coat. And what does she do? I’ll tell you what! ‘Come here, come here, come here. Get away, get away, get away’. Do you know how hard it is to find even a small island these days? Hmmf. Her sister. She should see that island of hers. They got that island somehow crooked. You know what I mean. Twenty Heron could live on that island. But , No! Miss la di da.
And take a look over there, on the island. My Island. I found it for her.
Anyway I’ve done a bit of a slideshow for you. I’ve titled it,
“My Island in the Sun”.
And I reckon it’s a very nice island. She should want a better island!! There’s nothing wrong with this island. Anyway the geese keep the snakes away. That’s what I told her. But No! Doesn’t make any difference.”