One of the goals of the avid gardener is to attract wildlife. While deer and voles are often seen as destructive pests in a garden, birds are almost universally welcomed. But with nature comes the reality of balance. Inviting one creature in often means bidding farewell to its prey.
My garden had not one, but two water gardens until the recent conversion of the smaller pond to a rain garden. The larger pond housed a few koi, while the smaller pond was home to about a dozen goldfish. One by one, the koi and the goldfish began to disappear. Everyone said I must have a blue heron, so I kept a vigilant eye on the ponds and eventually spied the culprit. It was not a blue heron, but a much smaller version that I had never seen before. I photographed the thief, took out my bird book and settled on the Green Heron. But to be sure, I called a neighbor who teaches ornithology at NCSU. At first he was skeptical, but after seeing the photo he confirmed the identity of our fish eater. My first question was, "How do I get rid of it?" He convinced me that the Green Heron was a rare, protected species, and a much more interesting creature than my fish, so we accepted the curve nature had thrown us, opened the all-you-can-eat heron buffet, and began stocking both ponds with goldfish from a pet store.
The Green Heron stuck around until fall, and the following spring he returned with a mate. Together they selected a pine tree and began building a nest using young pine branches. They would break the branches off the tree, fly down to the small pond, and float the branches until pliable enough for weaving. We enjoyed their odd calls, and kept re-stocking the fish ponds. Soon, three baby herons made their appearance. We discovered that these birds are quite fastidious by noticing the pile of feces-covered branches at the base of the pine tree. They would pull out soiled branches, discard them, and replace them with nice, clean ones. As the babies grew, the mother would push them out of the nest onto a limb, they would do their business, and then she would allow them back into the nest. Potty trained birds! We were hooked.
As the babies matured, the parents taught them to fish. The whole family would line up on the edge of the small pond and the goldfish began to disappear at an increasingly rapid pace. Eventually I came under scrutiny at the pet store for the quantities I was purchasing. The sales clerk was appalled to learn they were heron food.
When I formed the company in 2002, I named it after our resident, potty trained, fishing birds. The Green Herons returned annually for six years. Then one day, as I sat at my computer answering client emails, I heard a loud commotion in the back yard and looked out in time to see a hawk lift off with one of the babies in its talons. The valiant parents were squawking and fighting, but they were no match for the raptor. Horrified, I ran outside, picked up a fistful of gravel, and threw it at the hawk in an ineffective gesture of frustration. The hawk flew off with its meal. The predators had become prey.
The following spring, the Green Herons did not return. Our neighborhood had become a dangerous place to raise their children. For two years I watched and listened, but to no avail. Eventually I took a chance and bought 2 red-headed comets. When they were still alive the next spring, I added two koi. The fish are thriving, and I see hawks from time to time. But the Green Herons have not returned. This fall we dropped our youngest off at college for his freshman year. As we were saying good-bye, my son drew my attention to the edge of the campus pond. A lone Green Heron stood in the shallows, hunting for fish.