Catfish and the Great Blue Heron

I remember one time, when i was eight or nine, it was early november, one of those cold grey days when all th' grass was golden and crunched under your feet as you walked. We saw a great blue heron stalking along th' bayou. My friend Catfish pointed him out to me. The heron was stalking along the edge of th' ditch, taking slow, long strides, pausing for sometimes minutes in between steps. Catfish said he wanted to follow him. We walked as slowly as we could towards th' bird. I tried to tell Catfish about th' time me and Henry hid in th' bushes waiting for a raccoon to step into a trap we'd set. We weren't very still or quiet. But Catfish hushed me with a simple "shh." He didn't even turn and look at me, didn't break his slow steady stride, just silenced me with a whisper that sounded like th' wind. That's when i realized this guy was not me or Henry. He was still, his mind focused and at peace. I felt like a clumsy student beside him, sniffling in th' cold, every step i took sounding like i was stepping on bubble wrap. Catfish walked like a deer, fluid, with no sudden moves, and he hardly made a sound. We got to within ten or fifteen yards of th' heron. I'd never seen one up close before. He was beautiful. We moved when he moved, and stopped when he stopped. We watched him eat a crawdad. He stepped on it and ripped each one of it's claws off with a single swift swipe of his beak. We watched him catch and eat a fish. He looked at us a few times, but didn't seem threatened. If we got too close he'd fly ahead a few yards and land again, and we'd stalk right back up to him. Eventually i heard my mom yelling for me. "I gotta go" i told Catfish. Th' heron flew off. We watched it fly over th' woods and out of sight. "Me too" Catfish said, and we parted ways. When i got home it was dinner time and mom was worried about me and upset. We'd been out there for almost three hours. We never talked about that time, me and Catfish, either to each other or anyone else. It was an experience we had together. I don't know what it meant to Catfish, or even to me for that matter, but i do know that however different our perceptions of it, it left a lasting impression on us both. And every once in a while, when i see a true master at work, someone at peace with themself, a great musician, a skilled artist or craftsman, a person who can do something so well they don't have to think about it, i see that same look in their eyes that Catfish had in his eyes that day we were stalking that heron. Where ever you are, Catfish ole buddy, i hope that glint is still there in your eyes- and for those of you reading this, go do what you love, with those you love- life is too short not to.