JOY WITH THE MORNING 77 



recall, even but a few minutes after they have been 

 uttered. Only one knows that they were harshly, 

 screamingly musical, for surely sounds full of 

 poetry must be musical. The actions, however — 

 the alighting of the one bird with outstretched 

 neck, the leaping up at him, as one may almost 

 say, with the marvellous pose, of the other, the 

 vigorous shake, in which inaction was done with, 

 and active life begun, and then that searching, 

 careful contemplation of the nest by the male, 

 before sinking down upon it — all that is stamped 

 upon the memory, and will pass before me, many 

 a night, again, as I lie and look into the dark. 



It is the female heron, one may, perhaps, assume, 

 who sits all night upon the nest, being relieved by 

 the male in the morning. The first change, in my 

 experience, takes place between 6 and 9. The next 

 is in the afternoon — from 4 to 5, or thereabouts 

 — and there is no other till the following day. 

 Well, therefore, may the mother bird shake herself 

 before flying swiftly off, after her long silent vigil. 

 Perhaps, however, as darkness reigns during most of 

 this time it is the male heron who really shows most 

 patience, since his hours of duty include the greater 

 part of the day. 



It must not be supposed that the above is a 

 description of what uniformly takes place when a 

 pair of sitting herons make their change upon the 

 nest. On the contrary, the actions of both birds 

 vary greatly, and this is my experience in regard 

 to almost everything that birds do. Sometimes the 

 scene is far less striking, at other times it is just as 

 striking, but all the details are different — other cries, 



