Henry waited all day for the fisherman behind him to catch a fish so that he could steal it.
He whiled away the hours looking into the sea and contemplating life.
He watched tourists visit the nearby restaurant and gorge themselves on fish tacos.
He pretended that he was the only Great Blue Heron waiting for the fisherman to catch a fish.
Meanwhile, down the pavement a few steps from Henry, another Great Blue Heron lurked. Gerald. He was much closer to the fisherman.
With one final cast by the fisherman's sore, sunburned arm, a fish leapt from the water and took the hook. Henry's eyes widened, his breath quickened.
He started toward the fisherman with the haste of a glacier, not ever putting urgency before grace.
Gerald's stoic countenance emerged from the shadows. He was three feet away from the fisherman.
The fisherman examined the fish in his hand, decided it wasn't worth his trouble and looked over his shoulder at Gerald.
Henry continued toward the man, knowing his time was running short. He moved with intensity. He moved with the fervor of a snail.
The fisherman tossed the fish in the air and who was there to catch it?
It was Gerald. The victor.
Henry continued to move toward Gerald making very poor time. Perhaps one footstep every 30 seconds as is customary for herons.
Gerald flourished in his triumph, holding the fish in his bill this way and that. He pretended not to see Henry.
Henry literally never even sped up enough to challenge Gerald for the fish. It was actually kind of frustrating to watch.
Let's be honest though, Gerald's markings in the above photo are beautiful. It's no wonder the handsome young gent made off with the fish. Heh.