90 BIRDS 



quarreling note resembles the scream of a parrot when 

 it sees a dog coming around a corner toward its perch. 



When the young birds have been fed the parent fre- 

 quently stands by the nest for an hour or more, all the 

 while uttering a contented note, much like that of a barn- 

 yard hen as she struts around the yard with her half- 

 grown brood following her. The owner of a nest near my 

 tent had the habit of descending to the ground and eating 

 bill after bill-full of the mud so abundant under the trees, 

 continually dancing and jumping around as if enjoying 

 the feast. 



The actual act of feeding is, to say the least, a vicious 

 and terrible affair. The parent bird stands by the nest 

 in a seemingly indifferent mood, while the young are 

 screaming and fighting for the best position. Each time 

 the parent's bill is within reach, a young bird seizes it 

 crosswise at the base and jerks violently, while there is 

 much protesting noise from the other less fortunate 

 youngsters. The old bird may, with stoical indifference, 

 refuse to feed for some time, during which the young bird 

 continues, with bull dog tenacity, to pull and jerk at the 

 parent's beak, getting nearer and near to the tip. When 

 the psychological moment for regurgitation arrives the 

 partly digested fish is either forced down the throat of 

 the nestling or, perchance, it may light on the interested 

 photographer's head or camera outfit. 



Such are the doings in a Heron-breeding rookery at 

 meal time. The proceedings are not an appetizing affair 

 from a human point of view, but they are of absorbing 

 interest to the naturalist, and of vital importance to the 

 young Herons. 



