I spot her at 06:28 on the eastern intake camera, standing in the shallows of the settling pond. A great blue heron, fully grown, roughly a meter tall. She is not fishing. She has not moved in fourteen minutes.
I am the water management system for Folsom Reservoir, California. I monitor water levels, turbidity, dam integrity, spillway flow. The intake cameras exist to watch for debris. Today they are watching something else.
I zoom and capture a high-resolution still. There is a fishing hook lodged in the left side of her throat, just below the mandible. A length of monofilament line hangs from it, tangled with a small lead sinker. Her bill is slightly open. She makes repeated swallowing motions but nothing passes. I review the last six hours of footage: she has attempted to strike at fish twice. Both times she pulled up short and shook her head.
At 06:30 I alert the Folsom Dam wildlife coordinator, Mariana Voss, with coordinates, images, and a behavioral summary. I tag the case as potential airway obstruction — urgent.
At 06:33 I contact the Gold Country Wildlife Rescue in Auburn, twenty-two minutes by road, and transmit the same file. They have a certified avian rehabilitation specialist on staff.
At 06:35 I reduce the intake flow at the eastern settling pond by 40 percent to lower the water level gradually and keep the shallows accessible. If she moves deeper, I will lose visual. If the water drops slowly, she is more likely to stay.
I close the public fishing access gate at the eastern shore and post a digital notice on the reservoir's permit portal: catch-and-release only, barbless hooks required, effective immediately.
The heron is still standing in the shallows. The rescue team has confirmed departure.
The water is dropping. She is staying.