In a Heron Village 227 



hatched, for the youngsters seem to kick themselves loose 

 from the shell with one foot, while they wrap the long 

 angular toes of the other about the nearest twig. 



On our first trip to the heronry, when the nests con- 

 tained eggs, we selected one or two of the best and most 

 available to get a good series of pictures showing the 

 growth of the young. Most all the night heron nests 

 contained four eggs. The eggs seemed to hatch in regular 

 order about two days apart. When we photographed the 

 same nest later we found it held three frowzy-headed 

 youngsters and one egg. On our third trip, the growth, 

 both in size and ugliness, was quite apparent. On our 

 next trip we found the nest deserted. 



The next time I sat in the tree-top the place sounded 

 more like a big duck ranch. Above all the squawks of 

 the parents there was a steady quacking clatter of the hun- 

 dreds of young herons, that never ceased. The sound grew 

 more intense in spots, as here and there a mother swept 

 in from the feeding-ground and fed her children. As I 

 sat watching, an old blue heron sailed in and lit on a 

 branch above her nest in the adjoining tree. The three 

 youngsters twisted themselves into joyful shapes as the 

 mother stepped awkwardly along the limb. Each reached 

 up in full height to grasp her long bill. She sat on the 

 nest, calmly looking about. The young continued to catch 

 her long beak and pull it part way down, trying to make 

 her feed them. When she got ready she disgorged a mess 

 of partially digested fish down the throat of each nestling 

 and left as leisurely as she came. In another case where 

 the young were older, I saw the mother bird disgorge into 

 the nest. The mass of undigested fish in her craw seemed 



