Glassy grey-green water. Soon it will rain. The heron on the rock has to stand extra-still to convince the fish he's a tree and his long stabbing beak is a branch. He's thinking, Come out, come out, swim by this rock here, there's no danger, just me, a do-nothing tree. If you watch a heron at this act close-up (ie with a zoom on a camera or binoculars), you'll see that now and then the bird even sways a little like a sapling in a breeze.
There is no breeze. The grey-green river is waiting for the rain to start. I'm hoping to get a cycle in before it starts. I know I won't melt in the rain, but until I get windshield wipers on my glasses, I don't like cycling in the rain.
Here's a pic from last Sunday's cycle. No herons on rocks along this stretch because it's the beginning of the rapids. On the horizon, past the islands of trees, lie Mont St Bruno and Mont St Hilaire.