The Great Egret

The following story is written and contributed by Bruce Lindsay. Thanks a million Bruce... its was one of those kinds of days. (Photo Borrowed from the Net - by George Jameson)

~ Pastor Murray Lincoln ~

The Great Egret
by Bruce Lindsay

Recently I was in Florida outside my sister’s house, in the backyard actually, where a small river flows by. I had noticed a couple teen-aged boys fishing earlier and catching some pretty big fish. So once the kids were in bed I headed out on my own with my brother in law’s fishing rod and some stale hot dog buns to use for bait. I’d heard the fish go for balls of bread.

I had only been fishing a few minutes before I noticed this big bird land about 40 yards downstream of me. He was as tall as my shoulders at least. He eyed me and I eyed him. I didn’t want to have much to do with him, and from his body language, it seemed he wasn’t sure if he should be so close to me either.

I kept on fishing, keeping half an eye on this big bird. I noticed that as the minutes passed he actually was coming closer to me. Each time I baited my hook (the clever fish kept stealing the bread-ball but evading the hook) I looked and saw him take another step or two closer. He was soon only about 10 yards from me. Still his body language told me he was feeling very uncomfortable being so close and he was ready to fly away at a moment’s notice.

Then it happened, I landed my hook in a big one. It must have been at least a pound and a half because the tension on the line was not as strong as the pull of this fish. I wrestled with the fish for a while and finally got him to shore. I flipped him onto the grass, then bent down and pulled the hook out. And then I had a strange feeling, a feeling that I wasn’t alone. I looked over my shoulder and this big bird was no more than an arm’s length away from me. He couldn’t talk, but if he could have, I imagine he was asking “Mine?” like the seagulls did in the Finding Nemo movie.

I stood up and he still just stood there, peeping around my shoulder, looking at me. I could see in his eyes the question, “May I have that?” He didn’t move any closer. We looked at each other. The fish flipped around on the grass.

I walked past the fish a few steps and said, “Be my guest buddy. I was just going to throw him back, but I can see you need him more than I do. You’re just a skinny guy.” I motioned for him to help himself.

He did.

He had the fish in his long beak in an instant. Then this fat green still-flipping fish was down the bird’s throat in 2 gulps. The Egret looked at me quickly (I want to believe it was to say “Thanks”) then flew to the other side of the river to digest his meal in a safer spot.

He stayed there while I fished. He was good company. Very quiet, but that’s how a good fishing buddy should be. Before too long he flew back over near me, but I didn’t have any more luck. I ran out of hot dog buns, said good night to my friend, and went to bed.

That great big bird taught me an important lesson that maybe important to others too. I am a man who often finds it very difficult to ask for help. I would often struggle to do ‘two man jobs’ by myself when it only makes sense to ask for help and use two men. This bird was clearly feeling nervous like that. Yet he asked for help. He was hungry. I had a fish. “May I have that?”

People who are in a position to help will often help. It’s in our nature, I think, to help others. We only need to know that others need help. How foolish we sometimes are when we’re too proud to ask for help.

It certainly doesn’t make people think less of us when we ask for help, quite the contrary. I thought this was a very brave bird to come so close to me despite the possible danger I could be to him.

Finally, the person asking for help and the helper can form a bond of friendship. I called this bird “Buddy”. I felt like I left a new friend beside that river when I went to bed.

These are all good reasons, for me to ignore the feelings of humiliation that crop up when I need to ask for help. I pray that God will help me be brave and ask for help when I need it. If I’m more like that Great Egret, I know I will have less great re-gret.