Chapter Eleven
“See it there?”
Alfred gazed across the marsh, following Hilary’s bony finger to a patch of saltmarsh cordgrass that rose like wheat stems over the water.
“The shiver above the black needlerush grass.”
The slender stems shuddered from deep within the patch, and Alfred watched the grass intently. It stilled as a long, pointed beak emerged in the morning light, followed by a small head of black and white feathers with a yellow crown. The heron stepped out of the grass and strutted along a plat of raised soil that lifted out of the marsh water.
“It’s a male,” Hilary commented.
“How do you know?”
“The colorful crown.” He handed Alfred a pair of binoculars. “Females have grey and white heads. No crowns.”
The bird’s stalking gait filled the lenses as he observed its moveme
