Herons and cranes

As a child, I was always fascinated by herons, which were much rarer then than they are now, and always saw it as a lucky omen if I saw one on the estuary where we lived while walking the dogs.  They were aloof, tall and elegant, and I love them still.  Now, of course, there are other herons in this country - little egrets, for example, smaller but more elegant, dappling the south coast at Poole or points west.  And when I grew, in my early 20s, to a love of all things Japanese, I found that cranes were a powerful motif, in drawing, sculpture, painting, and textiles.  And now, we have cranes back in this country, in East Anglia, and with luck they will spread and become widely known and loved again.  Now I know that cranes and herons are quite different, but they share many qualities and attributes, and I am fond of all these leggy, striding birds, still and commanding.

These images come together in Yasunari Kawabata's short novel, Thousand Cranes.  Like Rituals by Cees Nooteboom, on which I have posted before, it is around the tea ceremony, but is a much less violent, forbidding book - but it's a very fine story, full of sadness and confusion, which I recall loving but the detail of which has faded quite away.   But Kawabata is a fine writer, and this is well worth a visit to the local library - as is Snow Country, or Master of Go. 

Here, to capture the mood, are two Japanese prints: the first is Five Egrets by Shosun, the second Hashimoto's Snowy Herons.   For these, and the next print, I am indebted to the Wetmore Print Collection of Connecticut College which allows free use of its images.

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And here is another print, Kokyo's Sagimusume, the spirit of the heron or white egret in Kabuki

 

 And finally, with an elegance all its own, a crane in the distance, seen from the Thames in west London. And there's a very wonderful series of short stories - Primo Levi's The Wrench -  about building cranes and similar structures, which is absolutely unmissable:  a real hymn to homo  faber, the maker of things, and a wonderfully inventive and amusing account of one Italian workman's skillful interaction with all the world.

Comments

[glo]

Here is a further information about herons:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/main.jhtml?xml=/earth/2008/06/26/eaheron126.xml&CMP=ILC-mostviewedbox
The scene is dreadful and poignant but we get to know that scientists think that herons are clever birds.

[Mr Cornflower]

My walk to work takes me along the Water of Leith, the small river/overgrown stream which runs through the heart of Edinburgh down to the sea at Leith. Heron sightings are, reflecting Lindsay's own experiences, not uncommon, but last year I saw something much more unusual. Passing over the bridge at Canonmills, which carries a busy road and is hemmed in by Victorian tenements, I looked over the parapet at the water and saw a large splash, too big for a fish. I stopped and looked more closely, and about ten yards upstream an otter surfaced, rolled over and swam away under my feet through the bridge. A sight I shall never forget.

[glo]

Why are herons less rare in UK nowdays? Do you think it is because of climate change?
One particular spring, I saw a wild heron several times while travelling by train through the countryside. I guess it was the same bird as he was in the same pond and in the same place each time I saw him. Being able to see a wild animal for real is always a treat, especially when you don't expect it.
Man-made cranes may be quite elegant - and they are indeed - I prefer lively cranes though; they are much less damaging in a landscape... see what I mean... Your association of ideas - and pictures - is brilliant though.

Kawabata is such a story teller and he is so good at describing feelings and relationships. I'd say his technique is to suggest more than to describe openly but he is so subtle and sharp. And he knows mankind so well. His prose is really appealing. I have read several novels of his but not "Thousand cranes". Maybe I should have a go with this book, given that I plan to visit a Hokusai exhibition soon.

I find it rather funny to see you mention a wrench here - I haven't read the book though - as I have been dreaming of owning one for several days, given that I was needing it... until the plumber visited.