Last September (2024), we were hot and sticky after putting in a rather large perineal flower bed around two sides of our little 1889 farmhouse.  It was too late to go for a paddle on the lake, so Kevin suggested we drive up the road to Jersey Street and wade and sit in the Boquet river.  This stretch of the river is ideal for wading or sitting in chest high water as it flows and cascades over layer upon layer of granite slabs and shelves. You can be in 3 inches or 3 feet simply by choosing which slab or pool you wish to enjoy. The water is clean: the Boquet River Association says, it’s the cleanest river in New York state.

According to the Nature Conservancy, New York’s 47-mile Boquet River is a major tributary to Lake Champlain, which provides world-class recreational fishing and supports verdant land for farming. It’s also the state’s steepest river, with a vertical drop of over 2,700 feet from its source on Dix Mountain to where it empties into Lake Champlain in Willsboro. The river is thought to have been re-named Boquet by the 17^th century French interpreter and explorer, Charles Boquet. Sadly, the native name has been lost to history.

We were the only ones there when suddenly and quietly; a young Great Blue Heron landed just 8 feet from where we are sitting. We froze. Herons are shy birds and do not get close to humans. She was about 2 feet high, very thin and thinly feathered as if she hadn’t quite grown into her adult splendor. Her feathers were light blueish grey, her legs also greyish. Her medieval/renaissance sword-like beak about 6 – 8 inches long.

The great blue heron is my totem/talisman. Whenever something important or especially meaningful has happened or is happening in my life, a great blue heron always seems to show up – flying overhead or standing nearby. I always think of these sightings as positive, a kind of supporting affirmation and connection for whatever experience I am facing. I call them my Great Blue Heron days.

We were sitting on a shelf with overflowing water, our legs and feet over the edge, enjoying the feel of cascading water flowing over them.  The heron stood there looking up and down stream and then she looked directly at each of us – one at a time. She did not blink or appear to be frightened in any way. It was as if she were our pet, along for a cool – down herself. A day by the river side, a lazy swim in the riffles.

She did not move about as if to hunt: Great Blue herons eat fish. But she did do something so marvelously unexpected, we had to hold our breath, so we didn’t gasp or laugh and frighten her away. She picked up her left foot, squeezed her toes together and dangled them over the edge of our little waterfall. She dipped in and out of the water, touching it lightly, then holding her foot in the water for seconds at a time. She seemed delighted with the feel of the flowing water cascading over her toes and foot. She turned her foot this way and that, testing which way the water felt best. Every so often, she would gaze at us (her eyes are on the side of her head). She did this for several minutes.

Then just as suddenly and quietly as she’d arrived, she flew up and left for better fishing in the deeper pools farther downstream. We could see her, but she completely ignored us as she busily concentrated on the flow in front of her. She stayed there until we left 10 minutes later. And she was still there as we drove our car over the bridge back towards our home.

It is 17 months since my sister, Evie’s death, and I am still very much in mourning. Sitting and wading in the Bouquet brought back memories of Evie and her family playing with us in the Bouquet river at Split Rock Falls and up on the Bouquet’s north branch at Shoe Box Falls. Both of our families whooped and jumped and splashed together on two perfect blue sky Adirondack summer days. The joy of water and laughter and sliding down rock slabs – so cooling after our trudge into Shoe Box. The exhilaratingly ice-cold water at the base of Split Rock made for squeals of delight and blue chattering lips. My sister so young and full of energy. I could not imagine that several years later she would become sick and then die of metastatic breast cancer. She was a super active positive woman who like the steep, fleeting Bouquet river covered a lot of ground in her brief time here. I deeply miss her and think about her every single day.

So, on this Great Blue heron day, I wanted to believe that this young heron’s visit was a sign from Evie, an unexpected visit in a place that I love – the watery Adirondacks. I think of Evie and me sitting side by side on other rivers and streams enjoying the tactile pleasure of water flowing over rocks and over us. We both loved that. Then I think about how this river water journeys on and on: different water but the same journey – just like my sense of my sister. She is here just not the same kind of here as before.