THE SHITEPOKE 79 



for certainly, it seemed, no nest placed in a tree could 

 accommodate such, dangling legs. I had been told that he 

 was a heron. In fact, while father and mother both usually 

 called him a shitepoke, they knew that he was a green he- 

 ron; but neither had seen a nest and both supposed he 

 nested on a tussock in some swampy place like most of the 

 waders. I tramped over the swamp ground in the neigh- 

 borhood of the plum and crabapple thicket time after time 

 to no effect. 



I think I have already told you that I had been taught 

 that there is a great tribe of waders, so called because of 

 their long legs, and that they are fishers which live in 

 shallow swamps and on the banks of streams. I had also 

 seen a picture of a flamingo's nest, and was under the 

 impression that all of this family built mud and grass 

 nests on the ground like the flamingos. 



I watched these birds for five years before I was suc- 

 cessful in finding their nest, and when I did find it, there 

 were five nests all within thirty or forty feet of each other, 

 the oldest one almost rotted and falling out of the tree. 

 Evidently there was a nest for each of the five years I 

 had watched the birds. Lest you make the same mistake 

 as I did, I must tell you that the nests were in very thick 

 brushy crabapple trees about ten or twelve feet from the 

 ground. They were of the size of a very large crow's nest 

 and were built of sticks. The top of the nest was larger 

 than one would naturally expect for so small birds, doubt- 

 less because their long legs make a bigger nest necessary 

 than would otherwise be needed. 



There was another mistake I made for several years. 

 There is a similar bird not quite as large and not of the 

 same color, but so shy that I have seldom been able to 



