My friend noted that on her walk she had seen several herons in amongst the reeds of the Tweed River In Peebles, Scotland. She wouldn't have known that I'd been stalking the Blue Heron for years.  Though the Blues are common to Western Montana, they are elusive and very shy. I've gotten some nice photos, but never the close-up I hoped for. In the morning I headed out with my 300 for my own jaunt up the river. On the opposite shore and in fair light, I saw a solitary heron, but still to distant for my 300. Surely the bird would be gone before I hiked up to the footbridge and back to where I had seen it, but lo, 20 minutes later and there the bird remained, below the bank in the water and the reeds. Slowly, with my belly and elbows on the ground, I worked my way to the water's edge. Ruffled at times and then totally at ease, this beautiful bird allowed me an hour photo session, up close and personal. It was the kind of oneness that stops time and dissolves the boundary between subject and object. A few days later with a local bird book in hand, I realized I'd captured the Grey Heron, distinguished by it's slightly smaller size and distinctive neck lacing.