Shake A Foot & Rouse The Prey…
Alone the Little Egret laboured amongst the slick rocks
Upon Mousehole’s early summer shoreline, its gleaming
White feathers, its slim black knife of a bill and its dark eyes,
Lined pale blue, all spotlit by the sun’s spasmodic brightness.
Head plumes lifted by a persisting rousing wind, it foraged,
Stepping forth with angular confidence and a harsh expression.
Its large yellow feet, surely dressed in bright yellow socks,
Stepped into rock pools with an awkward, darting grace, seeming
To shake each foot in turn in the sea water and encourage prey to rise,
Whilst glaring downwards, poised to thrust forth its blade with lethal prowess.
Its singular pursuit brought no visible reward, yet not discouraged,
It strode on, a spectral predator on its lonely, lethal mission…
Pete Ray
15th June 2024
Thought I might see oystercatchers, perhaps a seal after arriving in Mousehole but there were none visible, although a Little Egret entertained me well enough, as it scoured low-tide rock pools for food…
Great feet…
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