The story behind The Heron, as told to Charlotte by his daughter Allison:

Dad’s disability made it hard for him to do many physical activities with me and my brother growing up, but it never stopped him from trying. He would take us to the lake shore to play and swim all the time. You know how he loved to fish, but our splashing around in the water made it impossible for him to catch anything so he never brought his fishing poles.

Occasionally, he would go out on his own to fish until one day, when I had grown a little older, I noticed this, and asked him if I could join him. He said yes of course, he was delighted and he even had an extra fishing pole for me if I wanted to try. I fell in love with it, or really I fell in love with having a special thing that just me and dad did together. Granted most of the time at first was spent untangling lines and losing tackle, but we had fun and eventually I got better at it, and our fishing adventures became a pretty daily thing. Dad knew so much about nature and loved being outside. It meant so much to me to share that time with him by the shore learning some of the things he knew, but more importantly, learning more about him.

My favorite memory of fishing with him wasn’t the times we were able to get the canoe in the water or even the time a wayward dog swam out to us and my dad saved her from drowning. Which was epic. No, my favorite memory is the time when me and my father saved a Heron together. It was a cold day. We got our gear and headed to one of our fishing holes and found a big surprise. Out frantically splashing in the water was a giant Heron. It was easy to see something was wrong. This big beautiful bird was drowning. It was caught up in some fishing line and had been struggling for so long it could barely keep its head above the water and our arrival had put it in a panic, using up the last bit of its energy before it totally gave up.

Great Blue Heron

Remembering how my father had leaped into the water with no hesitation to save the little dog that had swam up to us and the toll that cold water and effort had taken on my father, I knew I wasn’t even going to give him the chance to try and save this bird. It was my turn. He had taught me to have no fear, to do everything in my power to help another life in need. No questions asked, no reservations. This bird seemed to be almost as big as me, but without a word I started charging into the water. My dad put his hand on my shoulder. The concern was gone from his face. In place of that concern was a smile. He knew what I was about to do. He was proud. He said, “Wait. You are going to need this.” He reached into his fishing vest and pulled out a little knife. He handed it to me and told me to be careful. I waded cautiously into the water. it was up to my chest by the time I reached the Heron. It froze in fear. I reached out and it began thrashing about so hard I didn’t know if I was ever going to be able to get ahold of it, let alone do the delicate work of cutting the line that had tightly wound its way around the neck of this terrified bird. Realizing this I looked for a way to get the bird out of the water first. The line had been tied to a snag under the water. I dove down and was able to cut the Heron from this snag, but the line was so tangled around not only the Heron’s neck but had also managed to wrap around one of the birds wings and pin it to its torso making it incapable of flight. Maybe the Heron was just that exhausted at this point or maybe it was starting to understand that we were there trying to help, but as I gently wrapped my arms around it to carry it to shore it seemed to relax some. I laid the Heron on its side where the wing was free. My dad already had out more cutting tools, his clippers, his forceps and another little pocket knife. The line was so tight around the bird’s neck that it was beginning to cut the flesh and bleed. The Heron began to thrash again and I had to use all of my mite to hold on to it. I was not much bigger than it, so it took all I had. There I was straddling this bird while my father went to work doing the delicate cutting with extreme care. The Heron once again calmed and looked into our eyes with almost a look of gratitude, or so that is what I saw. Then I looked up at my father. What I saw in his face was more moving than the look I had just seen in this poor bird’s face. A look I will never forget.

There were tears streaming down my fathers face, yet he was still smiling. I think at that moment he was realizing something and so was I. He was realizing that I had been listening to him, that I had been learning and absorbing some of the wonderful gifts and wisdom he had been sharing with me. That I was going to grow up and have a strong sense of empathy and not be afraid to do what is right. The Heron was free now and we were both in tears. We let go and stepped back. The Heron got to its feet, stumbled a little, took a few steps and looked back at us. It stretched its giant wings and examined them. It took a few test flaps and then took flight, a wobbly looking flight, but it made it and flew across the lake. We sat there stunned for a few minutes. My dad put his arms around me and gave me a huge hug and said, “Good job kid. I bet you are cold, let’s go home and get you dry. I will build a fire and we can tell everyone about our adventure.”

Not long after this he sat down and painted this beautiful painting of the Heron. Everytime I look at it I am filled with so much love and pride for my father. He was and is my hero and champion in so many ways. As I have told you before, he was always mending and nursing all the little forest creatures around us.