By Louie Ferrera
In a world thoroughly trampled on by humans, “secret” places are hard to come by. A couple of months ago I found one such spot just off the trail here at Riverfront Park
Riverfront is one of the more popular of the regional parks in Sonoma County. The location of my secret spot is just a short distance off of a heavily traveled trail. This trail is wide, 15-20ft, and circles picturesque and oval shaped Lake Benoist. The lake is ringed by willows, bay laurel and small oak trees which provide excellent habitat for a variety of songbirds. The lake’s surface is typically placid and glass-like, broken only by a handful of ducks or the occasional angler in a self propelled boat.
I was strolling this trail on a cool and overcast afternoon last February when I heard the distinctive squawk of a Great Blue Heron. I looked up and watched it disappear into the forest to the left of the trail. Then I saw another, and another. After watching four or five of these majestic birds fly into the forest I decided to do a little bushwhacking and investigate. The further I walked, the more birds I saw and heard. I soon found myself in a small grove of second growth redwood trees, each one 100 feet tall or more and each one topped with one or more huge osprey-like nests, only these weren’t osprey nests, they were heron nests. I had stumbled upon an extensive Great Blue Heron rookery! I tried to do a count and came up with at least a dozen nests, all of them large enough to fit a human infant. This spot was the center of frenzied activity. Birds were everywhere above me, coming, going, making a racquet and building their nests. I had the feeling that no one but myself knew of the existence of this magical place. I was truly in awe and felt blessed by my discovery. Some of the nests were occupied by what I assumed to be female herons. Were they getting ready to lay their eggs? Had they already done so? When do heron eggs hatch anyway? I’d get my answer a couple of months later.
Fast forward to today, April 6 . It’s a glorious blue sky day, cool and clear. The willows and oaks are all leafing out, the signs of spring are everywhere. There are no birds or anglers on the lake. Its coffee colored surface is smooth and glass-like, marred only by ripples from the occasional breeze. I’ve got my binoculars in hand, doing a slow crawl down the trail and observing birds. I breathe deeply of this clean, crisp air, reveling in the beauty of a fine spring morning. When I arrive at the spot off the trail where I found the rookery, I decide to head into the forest for a look. The bird activity wasn’t as frenzied as it was back in February but I did see several herons flying above me and activity in the nests too. But what really catches my eye isn’t above me, but at my feet. Young thimbleberry, poison oak and ferns dot the forest floor and are covered in white splotches of bird poop. Everywhere I look there are partial shells, pale blue and the size of chicken eggs. My guess is that after the young herons hatched the moms did a little housecleaning and tossed the empty shells out of the nest. The air is alive with the duck-like honking of young herons. I could feel the energy of all the new life that surrounded me. It was pretty spectacular! I realized that I was witnessing something that not very many people ever get to. I take a few minutes to explore, collecting a nearly intact empty shell as a souvenir. I’m not sure if the herons perceived me as a threat but I didn’t want to take a chance on stressing them out so I hightailed it out of there and continue my walk around the lake.
I may or may not really be the only person who knows the whereabouts of this rookery but what I do know is, while I was there today listening to the young birds and wandering among their discarded shells, it felt special and like a place out of time. For now, it’s my secret place and I’m going to keep it that way.
