FIELD NOTES: To eat and not be eaten

Orioles. Herons. Swallows. Warblers. Flycatchers. Thrushes. Vultures. Ducks. Geese.

These are just a handful of the types of birds I observed — by sight, sound, or both — during my Tuesday morning walk at Frances Slocum State Park.

Anyone who’s been following this bi-weekly column so far has probably figured out that Frances Slocum is one of my favorite (if not my top favorite) birding spots in Luzerne County. And that’s because of the variety of species that visit or live there year-round.

Although spring migration has pretty much wrapped up, there are still plenty of summer residents that have settled in and are visibly active throughout the park.

One of those species is the great blue heron, which can be found pretty much anywhere around the horseshoe-shaped lake, but is most often spotted in what many refer to as the “turtle pond” at the northernmost tip, separated from the rest of the lake by the road.

I never get tired of watching great blues.

Although common in Northeast Pennsylvania, these prehistoric-looking creatures with their long, scrawny legs and graceful plumage inspire awe every time. It’s especially neat to see them spearfishing with their long, pointy bills.

During my Tuesday morning visit to the state park, I observed an interesting interaction between a great blue heron and a large snapping turtle. The heron was perched on a floating wooden platform meant for the various turtle species protected there. All of a sudden, it started nervously edging away from the water, and I noticed something moving toward the platform just below the surface. The snapping turtle popped its head up out of the water and started trying to pull itself up onto the platform with its feet and large claws. The heron jumped back, and the two creatures had a brief staring contest before the snapper gave up and slid back under the water.

Curious about the relationship between these two wetland predators, I did a quick Google search when I returned home. I learned, as I suspected, they share an interesting dynamic. Both species will hunt and eat the other in what I can only think to describe as a power play.

Herons will hunt and swallow small turtles whole — including baby snappers — shell and all. And larger snapping turtles will grab a heron by a leg, sometimes pulling it underwater and drowning it for a satisfying meal.

I’m glad I didn’t witness this on Tuesday.

Shortly after the snapper interaction, the heron, still standing on the platform, plunged its head into the water in a fishing attempt, missed, and fell in, head-first. It quickly launched itself back onto the platform before flying off to the other side of the pond, where it eventually caught and consumed a few small fish.

I could’ve stayed and watched it hunt all day, but I needed to go home and get ready for work, so I left the heron with a wish for “happy fishing” and headed back up the path to my vehicle.

As I left the park, my stomach growled, and I started to contemplate what to have for lunch. I knew one thing for sure: After seeing what a great blue heron goes through to eat — and not be eaten — I was thankful for restaurants and grocery stores.

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