Am I a Glorious Beggar?

     Why did this blue heron trade his royal standing in the bird kingdom for panhandling? Locals on the Gulf Coast island where he lives warned me about Harry, as they call him. And the moment I drew open the curtains in the second-floor room I rented, I was a sucker to his charms. From the branches of a tree, he swooped over onto my balcony and cocked his head as if to ask, “Breakfast?”     
     I dutifully headed to the dock while Harry strolled alongside me at a comfortable distance. I grabbed a net, scooped a bait fish out of a submerged cage, and flopped it onto the deck. Harry speared it with his beak, tossed it in the air, and swallowed it whole. Then he stepped into a nearby birdbath and cleaned his beak in three-inch-deep water.     
     Cute, yes, but what happened to the creature Harry’s designed to be? With his six-foot wing span, he could soar above rippling waters, spot a fish below, and dive headfirst to spear it. But even though the ocean is just wing-flaps away, Harry gave up his majesty for the convenience of begging from a dock and cleaning up in a birdbath.     
​     Which makes me wonder whether I sometimes trade an ocean of adventure for the comfort of a couch. Have I become a glorious beggar? Am I willing to let my destiny take wing?