As cold as it looks

Sunday afternoon near the mouth of the Nicomekl River; cold and clear, with just a hint of wind. A heron fluffs out his feathers, curls his neck close to his body, and stands on one leg, to preserve a bit of warmth.

Looking downstream. The posts anchor a muddy bank, covered at high tide.

Laurie's favourite photo. The heron has seen movement; a fish, a frog?  Whatever it was, it saw the danger and vanished.

My favourite. I love the bands of light and shadow on the feathers, sunlight reflected from the water. And that little patch of rust brown on his epaulettes. (Check it out full-size.)