Herons and Bitterns 



they prefer to feed. In Florida one meets herons constantly, 

 fishing boldly on the beach, wading in the lagoons, perching on 

 stumps, and walking with stately tread and slow through the 

 sedges by the river side, their long necks towering above the 

 tallest grasses. The cypress swamps all through the south con- 

 tain herons of every kind; but at the north the sight of this lone 

 fisherman is rare enough to be memorable. Nine times out of 

 ten he will be standing with his head drawn in to rest between 

 his shoulders, and motionless as a statue. As he generally 

 chooses to fish under the shadow of a tree by the water, or 

 among the rushes that grow out into the sluggish stream, his 

 quiet plumage and stillness protect him from all but the sharpest 

 eyes. Disturb him, and with a harsh rasping squawk he spreads 

 his long wings, flaps them softly and solemnly, and slowly flies 

 deeper into the marsh. At close range he looks a comical mass 

 of angles; but as he soars away and circles majestically above, 

 his great shadow moving over the marsh like a cloud, no bird 

 but the eagle is so impressively grand, and even it is not so 

 picturesque. 



Herons are by no means hermits always. Colonies of ten or 

 fifteen pairs return year after year at the nesting season to ances- 

 tral rookeries, each couple simply relining with fresh twigs the 

 platform of sticks in a tree top that has served a previous brood 

 or generation as a nest. The three or four dull bluish green eggs 

 that are a little larger than a hen's very rarely tumble out of the 

 rickety lattice, however. Both the crudeness of the nest and the 

 elliptical form of the egg indicate, among other signs, that 

 the heron is one of the low forms of bird life, not far re- 

 moved, as scientists reckon space, from the reptiles. Sometimes 

 nests are found directly on the ground or on the tops of rocks; 

 but even then the fledgelings, that sit on their haunches in a state 

 of helplessness, make no attempt to run about for two or three 

 weeks. 



The Little Blue Heron, or Blue Egret ( Ardea carulea), less 

 than half the size of its great cousin, casually wanders north- 

 ward and beyond the Canadian border when its nesting duties 

 are over in southern rookeries. Its home is also a platform of 

 sticks, but it is placed, with a dozen or more like it, in bushes 

 over the watery hunting ground, and not in the tops of tall 



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