NORTH AMERICAN MARSH BIRDS 73 



air; for greater seclusion, he will even hide in a thick brush clump for hours 

 together. Startled in his retreat whilst his thinking cap is on, he seems dazed, 

 like one suddenly aroused from a deep sleep; but as soon as he collects his wits, 

 remembering unpleasently that the outside world exists, he shows common sense 

 enough to beat a hasty retreat from a scene of altogether too much action for 

 him. 



In spite of its peculiarities this recluse of the marshes has proved 

 to be an interesting and an attractive object of study for many ob- 

 servers, perhaps on account of difficulties to be overcome in making 

 only a slight acquaintance with it. There is a certain fascination 

 in searching out and studying the home secrets of these shy denisons 

 of the swamps. On a warm spring evening, when the waters are 

 teeming with new life and the trees and shrubberies are enlivened by 

 the migrating host of small birds, one loves to linger on its border 

 and listen to the voices of the marsh. Many and varied are the 

 sounds one hears at such a time. The air is full of twittering swal- 

 lows, coursing back and forth in seach of their evening meal; the 

 spirited, resonant trill of the swamp sparrow is heard in the long, 

 tufted grass of the open spaces ; the loud gurgling songs of the long- 

 billed marsh wrens come from the cat-tail flags, where an occasional 

 glimpse may be had of the lively little birds; from way off in the 

 marsh the clucking, clattering voice of the Virginia rail alternates 

 with the whinnying cry of the sora, only a few feet away. But above 

 them all in intensity and volume are the loud, guttural pumping 

 notes of the bittern, the weird, wild love notes of the "thunder 

 pumper" or ''stake driver." 



Courtship. — The nuptial display of the American bittern, a remark- 

 able and striking performance, has been well described by Mr. 

 William Brewster (1911); I quote from his excellent paper on the 

 subject as follows: 



At morning and evening I have heard them pumping or have seen them flying 

 to and fro, or standing erect with heads and necks stretched up on the watch 

 for danger, but previous to to-day, (Apr. 17) I have paid little attention to them. 

 Two, which I saw this morning, however, presented such a strange appearance 

 and acted in so remarkable a manner that I watched them for half an hour or 

 more with absorbing interest. When I first noticed them they were on the 

 farther margin of a little lagoon where red-winged blackbirds breed, moving 

 past it eastward almost if not quite as fast as a man habitually walks, one 

 following directly behind the other at a distance of 15 or 20 yards. Thus, they 

 advanced, not only rapidly, but also very evenly, with a smooth, continuous, 

 gliding motion which reminded me of that of certain gallinaceous birds and was 

 distinctly unheronlike. Occasionally they would stop and stand erect for a 

 moment, but when walking they invariably maintained a crouching attitude, v/ith 

 the back strongly arched, the belly almost touching the ground, the neck so 

 shortened that the lowered head and bill seemed to project only a few inches 

 beyond the breast. In general shape and carriage, as well as in gait, they 

 resembled pheasants or grouse much more than herons. But the strangest thing 

 of all was that both birds showed extensive patches of what seemed to be pure 



