Gangly heron is transformed in flight

Isabel Hardman
Isabel Hardman21 June 2021
WEST END FINAL

Get our award-winning daily news email featuring exclusive stories, opinion and expert analysis

I would like to be emailed about offers, event and updates from Evening Standard. Read our privacy notice.

Herons are often so still as they wait by the water’s edge that you fail to spot their grey-suited bodies until you’ve scared them into the air. They are dressed like rather fusty old bank clerks with dark grey wings, lighter grey bodies and a white and black striped neck. In flight they look totally different from the gangly dinosaur bird that stands by ponds and rivers. Their legs stick out at the back and they hold their heads close in to their shoulders. Their huge wingspan means people often mistake them for birds of prey on first glance as they fly. Those wings swoosh like a cape around the heron for its first few flaps away from the ground.

Isabel Hardman

The Grey Heron is everywhere in London: in parks, streams and on the foreshore of the Thames. It builds its huge, messy nests in trees and you can see some particularly good heronries in Regent’s Park,Walthamstow Wetlands and Richmond Park. You’ll be as likely to hear a heronry, in fact, as these birds are dreadful neighbours, always squabbling with one another as they wobble about in the trees.

Another similarly long bird is the Little Egret, a small white heron. There are quite a few egrets around London, particularly in Walthamstow and Bushy Park. In the breeding season, they grow lovely long wispy feathers on their heads.

The most ridiculous of the London herons is the Bittern. This really does look like a grey heron that’s trying to dress up as a python, with brown and ochre stripy plumage and a snaky neck. These birds are rare and shy. That stripy plumage camouflages them perfectly against the reed beds in the Barnes Wetland Centre and Lee Valley Country Park where you’ve got the best chance of getting near one. A real prize for any naturalist is hearing a bittern “boom”: a loud call like someone blowing across the neck of a milk bottle. Once you’ve ticked this off your list, you’ll know that you’ve been properly sucked in to enjoying our wild city.

Isabel Hardman is assistant editor of the Spectator and author of The Natural Health Service

Have you spotted any herons in the city? Let us know in the comments below.

Create a FREE account to continue reading

eros

Registration is a free and easy way to support our journalism.

Join our community where you can: comment on stories; sign up to newsletters; enter competitions and access content on our app.

Your email address

Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number

You must be at least 18 years old to create an account

* Required fields

Already have an account? SIGN IN

By clicking Create Account you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use , Cookie policy and Privacy policy .

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged in