214 Bird-Land Echoes. 



ness in birds counts for a great deal with the ram- 

 bler. It pleases us as does the first glimpse of the 

 mountains after a long journey over the plains. We 

 are ever on the lookout for it, whatever the time of 

 year, whether in the meadows or along the creek. 

 No matter how abundant the smaller birds may be, 

 we are always delighted to see a great blue heron, 

 the less graceful night-heron, or even a homely 

 bittern. They may merely fly away as we approach, 

 but they are big, and that is enough. 



The harrier has no favorite haunts here during its 

 winter sojourn. Years ago, when the meadows were 

 less a thoroughfare than now, and had not lost so 

 much of their original wildness, these hawks were 

 residents, but of late they do not appear until the 

 reed-birds begin to gather in the marshes prepara- 

 tory to their south-bound migratory flight At this 

 time they are on the watch for birds crippled by the 

 gunners, and would be far more common, I believe, 

 but for the infamous practice of the bird-butchers, 

 who shoot at them on every occasion. 



When, as often happens, the winter passes without 

 snow, the upland fields afford the harriers excellent 

 hunting-grounds. Every fourth or fifth adjoining 

 field has its bird, and I have noticed during the 

 present winter — 1895-96 — how much they hunt on 

 foot. I have never associated hawks with pedestri- 

 anism, but I can see some reason for it in this case, 

 as their prey (the mice) are extraordinarily abundant, 

 — a positive curse that has arisen through the stu- 

 pidity of the farmers, and it serves them right. Of 



