Heron

I've always admired herons - they're pretty much the biggest bird I get to see round here (though there are plenty of red kites now, I'll blip one soon I'm sure!).

This one was in Battersea Park, serenely minding its own business until I arrived. He was lucky that I don't believe that the fat of a heron killed at full moon might cure rheumatism. And I was lucky that he didn't regurgitate his last half-digested meal, apparently a common occurrence.

I usually feel good about seeing herons, but I couldn't help noticing the netting under his feet - was he stuck, or was I just not interesting enough to fly away from?