124 Birds of Lakeside and Prairie 



mile with the current of the stream, we turned to the shore 

 once more and drew our little craft up on a muddy bank that 

 separated the river from a great insweeping marsh, guarded 

 on all sides by big native trees. We left the boat and plowed 

 our way into the swamp. We caught a fleeting glimpse of a 

 Louisiana water-thrush as we left the river bank; a catbird 

 gave one strain of melody that ended in a sharp "meou" as 

 he discovered us. Two or three elusive sparrows dodged in 

 and out of the thicket at the edge of the marsh. The 

 endeavor to identify a sparrow under such circumstances is 

 one of the trying things of life. I soon gave over all thought 

 of the sparrows, however, for my companion, knowing every 

 bird-haunt of this bird-favored country, was leading me 

 straight to a feeding-ground of the great blue herons. The 

 swamp broadened out, the timber giving way to the right and 

 left. Suddenly from the rank grass growth not more than 

 thirty yards ahead of us there rose a great bird that flapped 

 its huge wings, stretched out its great neck, and trailing its 

 lanky legs behind, made straight for the sky-line at the tree- 

 tops. Only a few yards beyond another heron, surprised at 

 its breakfast table, left the well-furnished board reluctantly. 

 One after another the herons rose before our advancing foot- 

 steps. I felt a little conscience stricken at having interrupted 

 their feasting. We retraced our steps soon and before we 

 reached our boats the herons doubtless were back at their 

 repast of frogs, slugs, and delicate small fry, with which the 

 marshes of the Kankakee River abound. I never before had 

 seen a wild great blue heron at such short range. In first 

 taking flight the bird is an awkward creature. It reminded 

 me of nothing so much as of a man who is in a hurry to catch 

 a car, but has to stop to gather up four or five bundles before 



