A Mysterious Bird of the Marsh 



By VERDI BURTCH, Branchport, N. Y. 

 With photographs by the author 



WHEN the spring days come and the snows melt, the brooks are run- 

 ning full and the waters rising in the lake and marsh, the 'peepers' 

 awake and the toads and frogs begin to make music. Nearly every 

 morning we hear a new song from a bird newly arrived from the South. 

 These signs of spring quicken the pulse, and make us long to get out in the 

 woods and fields to learn more of the wonders of nature. 



Then one morning, about the middle of April, we hear a strange and myster- 

 ious sound issuing from the marsh — gung gi um, gung gt um, gung gl um — and 

 our curiosity is aroused. At first we think it may be some one over across the 

 valley driving stakes. Or perhaps it may be some one pumping water from an 

 old-fashioned wooden pump in a deep well. However, neither of these explana- 

 tions seems to be satisfactory; the sound is too sonorous and resonant. We 

 follow it up and, as we get closer and hear it repeated, we find that we had 



missed a part of this mysterious 

 noise when we were at a dis- 

 tance from it. Now it begins 

 with a series of gurglings, much 

 like the sound made by pour- 

 ing water slowly from a jug. 

 Then, when the main noise 

 comes, we can fairly feel the 

 reverberations and, although 

 we can see nothing there, we 

 are sure that the noise comes 

 from that bunch of cat- tails 

 just ahead. Moving forward 

 cautiously, we have taken but 

 a few steps, when suddenly, 

 with a hoarse squawk, a great 

 bird arises and flies away across 

 the marsh, and soon we hear 

 him again — gung gl um, gung gt 

 um, gung gl um. 



So we have partly solved 

 the mystery. We now know 

 that the noise is made by a 

 large yellowish brown bird, 



MALE AMERICAN BITTERN , ,,• , i tx 



„, , ., ,. , , ., , . , ,, nearly allied to the Herons — 



1 he white nuptial plumes are partly drawn into the -' 



plumage and show but faintly. the American Bittern, and, as 



(104) 



