Yesterday John, (my husband) handed me a small cutting from our local newspaper, The Camden Journal when I came back from work and told me it might be of interest. I had had such a challenging day of people in crisis. Does January do it to us I foolishly ponder? Several of my younger colleagues in our practice seem to have lost octogenarian parents during the dark days since Christmas, (a memento mori to me) let alone what’s happening inside of the consulting room, and the World that I could not take in even one more word of printed information.
This morning I looked at the cutting and discovered that it answered the riddle of my solitary heron who was the subject of my blog When the Mind Loses Fear. As soon as John unearths his pictures of the park heronry from his archive I shall report back on the tragedy.
John has found his snaps!
The crumpled scrap of paper now lying beside my morning coffee provided me with disturbing information which only confirmed my fears on our morning walks with Dido that the heronry has been abandoned. My internet search has failed to provide me with any additional information about the mysterious absence of these birds who I have worshipped since the days when I was privileged to read Yeats in the ballroom of the Holme, (then home to the English Department of Bedford College). I still remember the first time I looked across the lake at the swooping birds and saw a solitary black cormorant in their midst. It was the first time that I had seen a cormorant and it felt as hallowed as if I had seen the white albatross.
It may be the case that the solitary heron referred to is the same bird as pictured from my earlier blog. (Although the images are not identical and it is clear that the background to the image above is not Regent’s Park but generic.) A creature which had become depersonalised and fixated on the confusions of his muddy reflection. On Monday I shall once again be ringing the park keepers to find out … Where have all the herons gone?