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When it comes to fascinating anatomy, herons have the other avian families on notice. From their stilt-like legs to their wildly long necks and prehistoric vibes, these birds can captivate us standing still—never mind watching them stalk the shallows for food, take flight, or engage in flamboyant mating rituals.

You could almost say herons are up to their necks in curiosities, and, well, you’d be right; the neck is the hub of many fascinating heron behaviors, from stabbing and gulping down prey to wading and attracting a partner. If you’ve ever wondered why a heron’s neck appears to be contorting, scrunching, or tilting, you’re in the right place.

What’s up with those long necks?

“Are you talking about, like, why the long neck?” asked biologist Clay Green, who researches herons at Texas State University, when Լ����Ƶ reached him over the phone. (Yes, we were.) One way to tackle the question is by zooming out: The neck’s length, Green says, is perhaps best explained by the length of the legs. You can get a sense of that ratio by comparing a Snowy Egret—all egrets are taxonomically herons, by the way—to, say, a Great Blue Heron. The compact egret has shorter legs and a comparatively shorter neck, whereas both features on the latter bird are longer.

Put simply, the farther out of the water a heron stands, the longer the neck it needs to reach the surface for food and water. In the water, herons wade rather than swim, so a neck that can reach all the way down is the only way to connect the beak with dinner. “It’s really just a consequence of being so far from the ground,” explains wildlife ecologist Peter Frederick, who studied wetland birds at the University of Florida. 

How do heron necks work?  

Herons often catch prey including fish, amphibians, small mammals, and even other birds by lunging their necks forward. The key to this speedy and powerful striking ability is one in the neck that acts as a sort of hinge. On the hunt, a long-necked heron will often start with its head bent back into the coiled ‘S’ shape birders know well. Then, in the blink of an eye, the bird snaps its neck forward to catch prey in its beak or spear it like a kebab. Fascinating to watch from afar; less fun if it happens to you.

Frederick likens the motion to a karate chop, or even the ancient spear-throwing lever called an atlatl, which adds speed and energy to a fling. “It starts off apparently slow, but then extends really, really fast,” he says.

Sometimes, Frederick adds, a heron will choose to hunt with its neck fully retracted, creating an element of surprise by concealing their reach from the fish, amphibian, or mammal below. “Being crouched in a position like that, with the neck up against the body, may make the prey feel like they’re farther away from this thing that could get them,” he says. “And then, suddenly, that neck unfolds and goes zipping out.” A Green Heron’s split-second extension from apparent stumpiness is an especially impressive . (Shorter-necked species, like night herons, rely on surprise, too—but because they don’t have a long reach, they find ways to sneak closer to their prey before they lunge, including hunting at low light. Hence the name.)

How accurate is a striking heron?

The birds are shockingly good at spearing from afar—and, you guessed it, the neck is a crucial piece of the puzzle. As they whittled away hours of observing Great Blue Herons off Canada’s western coast in 1972, the zoologists John Krebs and Brian Partridge noticed their subjects would often have their heads slanted to the side for minutes at a time, especially on sunny days. While they kept an eye out for fish darting around below, the researchers realized, the herons were leaning slightly toward the sun to keep the glare on the water’s surface from obstructing their vision. Even more impressively, a following study of Reef Herons found that the birds correct rapidly for the refraction that distorts the location of fish in the water, adjusting their angle of attack within a tenth of a second before they break the surface.

All of these precise movements and calculations are conducive to a stakeout strategy—there may not be much to see as the birds lie in wait, but the scene is riveting when they go in for the kill. They can sometimes sit perfectly still for what seems like hours, says Green. “But if you watch them closely, you can see their eyes and their head moving. They’re tilting.”

How do those slender necks swallow prey whole?

Herons have necks built to gulp down shockingly massive meals. The birds have been spotted swallowing rats, frogs, gophers, muskrats, midsize birds, and even snakes. That neck may look slender, Green says, but it’s very elastic, which allows it to expand enough for larger prey to travel down the gullet. The neck’s internal structure also safeguards breathing when a big animal goes down the throat: Most of a heron’s trachea, or windpipe, is tucked behind the hard vertebrae.

Occasionally, however, those ambitious meals come back to bite. An animal that doesn’t quite make it down a heron’s throat, such as an armored catfish, can prove fatal.

Why do herons scrunch up their necks while flying? 

Unlike most other waterbirds, like swans and geese, long-necked herons often fly with their necks scrunched in, recoiled close to the torso. “It’s better balance not to have something sticking way out in front,” explains ornithologist James Kushlan, especially because their spines aren’t quite as strong as those of other lanky birds  like cranes, which do fly with their necks outstretched. Herons are unusually top-heavy; all that stabbing and spearing takes a chunky bill and hefty neck muscles, while the rest of their bodies are relatively light. Cranes, on the other hand, mostly forage, so their neck-to-body weight ratio is much lower.

The scrunched-up position when flying does come with drawbacks for herons, like having less perspective on their surroundings. Green recalls conducting a study in southern Louisiana to test which ponds the waders might choose based on the number of decoys placed there. “When the birds were coming in, their necks were stretched out,” he says. That could indicate they were actively looking for suitable habitat for foraging or keeping an eye out for potential prey.

Anything else those necks are good for? 

Yes! Possibly the most important use of the neck, in the long run, is making more herons. Like many birds, herons use their most prominent features to great effect when seeking a mate. “If you have something like a neck, you might as well show it off,” Kushlan says. Standing at the nest site, Great Blue Herons will fully extend their necks, show off their breeding plumes, and snap at each other with their beaks. Great Egrets can also be seen undulating their heads and necks as they bob up and down to attract attention.

Researchers are just as interested in the many wonders of a heron’s anatomy as the rest of us—although studying the birds can be a perilous undertaking. There’s one final neck function that matters quite a bit if you’re getting up close and personal: self-defense. Frederick remembers learning it’s no small matter to keep a heron’s head covered and bill closed while handling one by the neck. “They can really stab,” he says, just a shade ruefully, “and they go for the eyes.”