The Heron Complex
One day a virile grey Heron swept down from the aether, unusual on our estate and an especially incongruous sight in our decaying back garden. With long beak it snatched up from the pond each knackered goldfish, choking them down one after another until none were left. After sitting quietly for a moment in gloating contentment up on the fence it was soon away with a rolling clatter of its great wings. I wasn’t there to see the assault, but my father, the custodian of the goldfish pond, relayed to me what had happened, his face growing red as he recalled the bitter slight. He cursed every sorry Heron in our sorry Albion and, stung by new purpose, began the persecution. more...