She’s back.
You might remember the story from a few weeks ago. The heron visited my garden, ate 60 goldfish, left no tip, posted no Google review. I thought it was a one-time performance – the final act of a particular chapter.
But she came back.
No fish. No food. She just… comes. And stands. And watches. Sometimes she catches a frog. Sometimes she simply stands for an hour on the stone by the empty pond.
But to my absolute surprise, there is one survivor. One single goldfish out of more than sixty. A true ninja, she somehow managed to hide where the heron’s eye couldn’t reach. Seeing her swim alone in that vast emptiness now, I see incredible determination—a tiny spark of life that refused to give up, even when the odds were sixty to one.
And you know what? There’s something hypnotic about it.
This is no longer a story about loss. This is a story about nature that doesn’t negotiate. The heron didn’t come here for reviews. She doesn’t care that the fish are gone. She simply is. And that lone fish? She’s the proof that life always finds a way.
And me? I’ve learned to live with it. And I’ve decided to change my perspective.
📸 Time for the 35mm.
Until now I’d been hunting her with 600mm. Now, since I no longer need to guard the fish from her… I want to try something different. I want to see how close she’ll let me get. I want to capture her in full – in a wider frame, with context, with my garden behind her.
Is it a risk? Of course. But if anyone is going to teach me patience and distance – it’s her.
So welcome back, heron. There’s nothing left to eat here. Just me, my camera, a 35mm lens, and the curiosity of how close this story will take us.
🦩 The circle of nature – sometimes it hurts, sometimes it astonishes, always it teaches.
