200 A GREAT BLUE HERON. 
hour, admiring his handsome blue wings as 
now and then he spread them, his dainty 
manner of lifting his long legs, and the 
occasional flashing stroke of his beak. My 
range was short (for a field-glass, I mean), 
and, all in all, I voted it “ta fine show.”’ 
When I wearied of my position I rose and 
advaneed upon the heron in full sight, ex- 
pecting every moment to see him fly. To 
my astonishment he held his ground. Down 
the hillside I went, nearer and nearer, till I 
came to a barbed-wire fence, which bounded 
the cranberry field close by the heron’s pool. 
As I worried my way through this abomina- 
ble obstruction, he stepped into a narrow, 
shallow ditch and started slowly away. I 
made rapidly after him, whereupon he got 
out of the ditch and strode on ahead of me. 
By this time I was probably within twenty 
yards of him, so near that, as he twisted his 
long neck every now and then, and looked 
at me through his big yellow eyes, I began 
to wonder whether he might not take it into 
his head to turn the tables upon me. A stab 
in the face with that ugly sharp beak would 
have been no laughing matter; but I did not 
believe myself in any danger, and quickened 
OO a 
