208 BEAUTIFUL BIRDS 
or Bertram or Dorothy or Norah or Wilhelmina— 
you don’t know a bit what family they belong to; 
but as soon as you know their surnames—Smith or 
Brown or Jones or Thompson or Robinson—why then 
you do—and it is just the same with birds. Heron 
is really a surname, only the bird that has it, here in 
England, has not a Christian name as well—unless 
“common” is one, for he is called the Common 
Heron. But White Egret is a Christian name and 
the surname to it is Heron—for the White Egret 
belongs to the Heron family. That is why he is so 
tall and gaunt and stilty, for a heron is always like 
that—it is the family figure—and so now, when I tell 
you that /e stands in the water and catches fish, you will 
know why he does that, too; fish is the family dish, and 
no heron would think of going without it, for long. 
But now, let me tell you about those beautiful 
feathers which the poor White Egret has. They 
grow only on his back—about the middle of it— 
and droop down to a little way over his tail, so that 
they are a foot or more long. You remember what 
I explained to you about the feathers in the tail 
of the Lyre-bird, and those that make the plumes in 
the beautiful Birds of Paradise—how the barbs of 
the feather on each side of the quill have no 
barbules to hold them together, so that they fall 
apart and wave about like beautiful, soft, silky threads. 
