In spite of the fact that it was only 23° F and there was a cold breeze blowing, I went down to the river to stalk the heron. And there it was,
sitting sleeping on a rock, oblivious to people with children and dogs walking by. I made myself as comfortable as I could while sitting on snow-covered ground to take some photos. The heron didn’t do much. Every once in a while it would move a leg or open its mouth.
After about a half and hour, I had to get up and walk around to get the blood circulating through my frozen body. When I came back, it was still in the same place, same position. I sat there for another 20 minutes as I turned into a popsicle and when it still didn’t do anything, I left. As I’m walking to my car, I look back and the heron flew right over me, taunting me. But at that point my fingers were too cold to press down on the shutter.