Yesterday – a miracle. At my desk, glancing sideways at the window, I saw a white heron alight on the lowest branch of a nearby eucalyptus tree. “Alight” is the right word for its landing; everything about the bird is delicate. It stood with its back to me, taking in the surroundings. The resident crows, who usually take shots from this one and the above branches at anything smaller than themselves moving down at the creek bottom, started to flutter above and below the visitor. They probably hoped what I feared, that the commotion would disturb and chase away the intruder. Besides, if crows are not colorblind, and are aware of their own color, they must have been doubly disturbed by heron's brilliant white – the starkest contrast to their iridescent black. The heron didn’t seem to mind or simply ignored the pesky crows. It did not change its place on the branch. After a while the crows settled down, since the newcomer did not accept their challenge. I took out my cameras and lay in wait for heron’s every move. I could not have enough of the sight. The heron was in no hurry. It was sure of itself like a royalty. There was no one around bigger in size, so it stayed as long as it wanted. It wouldn’t react to crows' flapping tactics. After a while, of its own accord, when it was ready, it unfurled its mighty wingspan, its legs outstretched and angled like the skiers at the lift off on a jumping run. A beautiful sight, as the heron flew across the creek toward the house and on, out of the view. Poise and beauty – a blessing to behold. Would that I were a heron to the crows of life!