Ron the heron is stoic in the face of storms

Our grey heron weathers the storms, but then he is much better equipped to do so than we are, writes Damien Enright

A version of himself flew in primeval jungles millions of years before we evolved sufficiently to stand upright, and no doubt storms then were even more vicious than now as Ice Ages came and went, continents cleaved apart, rivers and seas opened, and the occasional meteor hit the earth with such force as to knock it off kilter and render entire species extinct.

He stands there, on the balcony, shoulders hunched in a posture of forbearance, patience, tolerance of discomforts which cannot be remedied. Whether it is Storm Desmond, Eva or Frank raging, he appears nonplussed. Were he ‘plussed’ he would surely seek shelter: but no, he perches on the first-floor height, or even on the pergola 10m above ground level. He faces aerodynamically into the gale. He stands on one leg silhouetted against the wild sky. When buffeted, he puts down the other leg momentarily, but only when the gusts are fast and furious, with no calms between, does he deign to support himself on both.