Frank the Heron 
and in the summer-time devours a good 
many young ducklings and moorhens ; 
but fish and frogs are what he chiefly 
looks for, and as his appetite is good 
his presence is not always welcomed. 
However, he is such an ornament to 
the landscape, whether standing in 
statuesque pose on the river’s brink, or 
flapping slowly over the marshes on his 
big curved wings, that it would be a 
Sreat pity to: be too hard on him. 
Luckily he can take very good care of 
himself as a general rule. 
Now, you may be wondering all this 
time why I call him Frank. Well, 
then, it is because, as he flaps lazily 
along in the dusk over the fields on his 
way to the rivers and ponds, he calls 
out in a loud harsh voice, ‘ Fra-a-ank, 
Fra-a-a-ank,’ 
