138 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



shore through the narrows and dropped back 

 around the side of a bay near an old water tank, 

 used by the Grand Rapids and Indiana Railway 

 Company when they had a dummy track laid at 

 the head of the lake to bring out gravel for the 

 construction of the road. Not far below the tank, 

 in a sort of pocket formed by a big log extending 

 from the shore into the water and bordered by 

 cat-tails, bulrushes, and several kinds of swamp 

 grasses, in glancing ahead I saw a beautiful big 

 brown bittern quite close to us. He was wading 

 along the lake shore, lifting his feet silently, setting 

 them down carefully, his beak not far from the 

 surface, intent on watching the water for small 

 fish, frogs or worms for his breakfast as he ad- 

 vanced. At the same instant I saw him he saw 

 the boat. 



I cautioned my husband not to move a muscle 

 not absolutely necessary, to propel the boat as I 

 directed, and to use great care to lift the oars 

 slowly and lower them quietly. That was the 

 first time in years that I had started to do any- 

 thing afield or on the water without a snapshot 

 camera in my hand. Before me was an oppor- 

 tunity to take a splendid picture of one of our 

 most attractive water birds, which would have the 

 added value of giving its exact pose when trust- 

 ing to protective colouration, exactly what this bird 

 was doing; for the instant he saw me he stopped 

 as if petrified in his tracks, compressed his feathers 



