Frank the Heron 
me in my hiding-place. After standing 
still in his usual patient fashion, I saw 
the beak shoot out like lightning, and 
up came a squirming, wriggling, twist- 
ing eel. Such a comical sight, I think, 
I never saw. Frank stalked to the shore 
holding his captive securely, and then 
banged it on the ground; and after many 
trials and fruitless attempts on his part, 
and many frantic struggles on the part of 
the eel, it was swallowed, still alive and 
still wriggling and twisting as only an eel 
can wriggle and twist. Slowly it passed 
down the long neck on its way to the 
hungry stomach waiting to receive it, 
wriggling and twisting all the way down. 
For I saw it distinctly, and watched its 
convulsive struggles as it gradually 
passed lower and lower. It looked a 
most uncomfortable sort of meal to 
165 
