2871. Swamp heron © Bruce Goodman 11 October 2023

Shrill cries echoed in the mist. It happened only at dawn. The sound was eerie. It was as if a woman or child was getting strangled. Charlie knew it wasn’t; it was the cry of the swamp heron. A colony of swamp herons often gathered at a nearby wasteland. Of course the unnerving call didn’t happen every dawn. Usually it happened when there was a heavy mist. The mist appeared about once a week. Sometimes in winter it lasted for several days. Charlie’s wife didn’t like the call. “It gives me the heebie-jeebies,” she said. “There it goes again. It sounds like a woman or a child is getting strangled.” It wasn’t only Charlie and Matilde who heard the cry of the swamp heron. Their neighbour, Marshall, heard it too. “Yeah,” he said to Charlie and Matilde when he popped in, “it gives me the heebie-jeebies as well.” “And to make matters worse,” said Matilde, “so many young mothers and children in the area have gone missing. My imagination works overtime. I can’t bear to think…” Marshall smiled. “You’re right there,” he said. “It sounds like a woman or a child is getting strangled.” Contact Author Back to Index Next Story Previous Story