All communications for this department 

 should he sent to the Department Editor, 

 Mr. Harry G. Higbee, 13 Austin Street, 

 Hyde Park, Massachusetts. Items, articles 

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 Editor. 



When the Herons Homeward Fly. 



Far clown on the Indian River, along 

 the eastern coast of Florida, thousands 

 of "little blue" and Louisiana herons 

 make their homes among the thick 

 mangroves and in the hidden lagoons 

 and bayous of this enchanting land. 



Though persecuted and shot to the 

 verge of extermination in many local- 

 ities which were formerly wonderful 

 bird paradises, the recent guarding of 

 some of the colonies in their nesting 

 season, and the setting apart by our 

 Government of large areas where the 

 birds are protected throughout the 

 year, have now checked this slaughter 

 to a large degree ; and one of the most 

 pleasant sights of the tourist, as he 

 sails through these blue waters and 

 among the green islands of semi-tropi- 

 cal beauty today are the graceful herons 

 and egrets which are almost constantly 

 in sight, and which add a beauty and 

 charm of their own to the southern 

 landscape. 



One of the sights which I shall always 

 remember in a chronicle of events dur- 

 ing a trip through this region was the 

 pleasure of watching the gathering of 

 these herons toward nightfall, as they 

 silently made their way in little groups 

 toward the common "roost" where thev 

 were to spend the night. 



This "gathering of the clans" began 

 shortly before sunset and, as nearly as 

 I could determine by noting the direc- 

 tion taken by the various flocks, their 

 destination lay a few miles to the 

 westward of our course, somewhere 

 within the confines of that great pro- 

 tecting swamp known as The Ever- 

 glades. The day had been an entranc- 



ingly beautiful one, as days in this lo- 

 cality are wont to be, and as it was 

 coming calmly to its close, there seem- 

 ed to be a sense of dreamy satisfaction 

 quietly stealing over us and settling 

 all about us. What a complete har- 

 mony we find in nature at such a time 

 —in the quieting of the waters, in the 

 glorious tinting of the heavens, and in 

 the softening shadows of the palms. 

 The hum of the insects and the evening 

 songs of the birds come to our ears so 

 unobtrusively that we scarce notice 

 these different sounds, so perfectly is 

 blended all the music of the wild in 

 Nature's gentle lullaby. 



It was at such a time, near the close 

 of a mid-December day, that I glanced 

 up from these dreamy surroundings 

 and noticed a Mock of twenty-one little 

 blue herons flying southward over our 

 launch. Not a sound did they make, 

 and their rythmic, regular flapping 

 seemed to propel them without physi- 

 cal exertion toward the goal of their 

 desires. Soon another and another lit- 

 tle group flew silently over us. Some- 

 times there would be a single straggler, 

 and again a flock of fifty or sixty birds, 

 containing both the Louisiana and lit- 

 tle blue varieties ; but always did they 

 seem impelled by the one motive or in- 

 stinct, as unerringly they set their 

 course for the common goal. Just so 

 strongly and so truly does the "call of 

 home" come to every creature when 

 the day is done 



Every two or three minutes as I 

 looked up into the sky would I see 

 these little flocks cleaving their way 

 through the blue ether. They were 

 flying at a considerable height and of- 

 ten in well formed V-shaped flocks. 

 Proceeding steadily southward on our 

 course, I soon noticed a change in the 

 direction of the herons' flight. Flocks 

 were now moving to the westward, 

 and were flying at a much lower alti- 

 tude than those previously seen, indi- 

 cating that we had passed in a general 



