Frank the Heron 
S, and the wind ruffles the long plumes 
on head and neck, and the sun shines 
upon his grey feathers. But when once 
he has settled down to business it takes 
a very sharp eye to detect him. Quite 
motionless he stands, mid-leg deep in 
the water just at the edge of the reed- 
bed. Upright and alert, he looks as if 
he were some inanimate object, so rigid 
he is and stiffly posed. His neck is 
bent back like a spring, and his beak, 
sharp and long as any dagger, is ready 
to strike. The moorhens, and coots, and 
wild ducks swim in and out and round 
about, and take no notice of him, nor he 
of them, and the little fishes sporting 
about in the shallow water soon forget 
all about him, and think—he is so still 
and quiet—that he must be a post or a 
clump of reeds. Presently one of them 
