Anatomy 1 - The Neck Is a Lie

Here comes an adventure story that begins with curiosity about what I assumed was the telescoping neck of a Halibut Point favorite, the Green Heron.

Other than its long legs and beak it seems to have normal proportions for a bird.

Suddenly, from that smooth cloak of feathers, comes a spectacular thrusting neck.

Green Heron at rest

How does it accomplish that? I consulted my brother the neurosurgeon, who doubted the possibility of a telescoping function. He reasoned that extensor movement in all of us vertebrate creatures works on a pulleys-and-ropes principle. Despite outside appearances, something of that sort was going on.

Anatomical drawing of an Anhinga

I went online to see what I could find out about Green Heron necks. The quest led to this illustration, by golly, of pulleys and ropes operating the neck of an Anhinga, another fish-seeker.

In flight a Green Heron does show a serpentine silhouette resembling other long-necked birds. When perched or hunting, however, this small bird minimizes its visibility to both predators and prey.

I had found the anatomical drawing in a blog titled The Neck Is a Lie, a delicious account by Emily Willoughby, self-described "paleoartist and wildlife illustrator." She says, "This blog is intended as a place to put my art, and to sometimes wax scientific on a variety of topics that interest me, most of which will ‒ you guessed it ‒ relate to birds and/or dinosaurs." Irresistible, right? 

You can go further down the trail to the source of her argument that the skeletal structure of animals is often at odds with its physical appearance, on a website by dinosaur aficionado Matt Wedel titled SVPOW.com  (Sauropod Vertebra Picture of the Week). More irresistible stuff.

Our fish-spotting Green Heron comes out if its crouch when it senses a prospect coming near.

It employs that long agile neck beneath the water surface, keeping itself mostly dry.

If that neck is a lie, it's because beauty can be lethal on the interface of life and death.