I was leery of walking under the great rookery, having an awe of herons that’s akin to my respect for skunks, buzzards and carsick puppies.
For nothing on earth can equal the cosmic, monumental defecation of a startled heron. Several times, while canoeing close-in riverbanks, I have been almost beneath perching herons before they saw me. As the startled birds lumbered into the air they voided incredible ropes of excrement that could have whitewashed an entire fleet of canoes. One startled heron is bad enough; a whole heronry could be a catastrophe.
John Madson, Stories from Under the Sky