WILD WINGS: A FAREWELL 297 



The playful spirit is universal among them; even 

 the solemn gaunt heron, that stick of a bird, is capable 

 of it; I was delighted one day to witness three of 

 these birds that formed part of a big promiscuous 

 gathering all at once break out in a wild game 

 of romps. A heron at play differs from all 

 other birds in its awkward ungraceful motions, and 

 when running about appears hardly able to keep 

 its balance. 



The heron's moments of abandonment are rare and 

 he is rusty in consequence: the small shore birds 

 on the contrary relax often and are as easy and 

 graceful at play as any bird. One day when sitting 

 on Wells bank I had only two birds in sight, two 

 ringed dotterels, one quietly feeding on the mud-flat 

 directly beneath me, the second bird running along 

 the margin of the water forty or fifty yards away. 

 By-and-by this one rose and came flying to his com- 

 panion, but instead of alighting near him as I expected 

 him to do, he paused in the air and hovered for three 

 or four seconds directly over him, at a height of a 

 couple of feet, then dropped plump down upon his 

 back, almost throwing him to the ground with the 

 impact, after which he folded his wings and stood 

 quietly as if nothing had happened. The other bird, 

 recovering from the sudden shock, threw himself into 

 a belligerent attitude, lowering his beak and aiming 

 it like a lighting ruff at his comrade, his whole plumage 

 raised and his wings and tail feathers open; but he 

 did not attempt to inflict any punishment; after all 

 that show of resentment at the insult he contented 



