THE BIRD DIARY 177 



Aug. 6. Visited the heronry. This is a collec- 

 tion of some twenty pairs of black-crowned night 

 herons that nest each year in a clump of maples 

 crowning a knoll across the sloughs. During 

 years of high water the place is an island. Ac- 

 companied by my Boy Scout trusty and armed 

 with the kodak, I set out early in the afternoon. 

 We waded a neck in the slough, and after cross- 

 ing a pasture, were soon at our destination. The 

 place was notably quiet now, as most of the 

 young had flown. Three or four old birds 

 squawk-wawked as they flapped out of the tree- 

 tops, and soon we were beside a nest with two 

 well-fledged young in it. We photographed 

 them, and soon another larger fellow was shaken 

 down and persuaded to pose. These all did their 

 usual throw-up trick — disgorging the contents of 

 their stomachs at us — but we had been there be- 

 fore. Their breakfast, as usual, had consisted of 

 salamanders. It would be interesting to know 

 just how the parent birds catch so many of these 

 creatures that never seem to be very plentiful. 

 On a former visit to the heronry a youngster ac- 

 tually coughed up a Carolina rail that somehow 

 must have run foul of the wicked beak of the old 

 heron in the rushes at night. 



