BIRDS OF THE WAVE AND WOODLAND 149 



clear patch of water by the bank which a shaft of sunhght 

 pierces to the pebbled floor, the heron, with half a dozen 

 stately, noiseless steps has changed its ground, and passing 

 behind that thick spray of willow that droops "aslant the 

 stream," is out of sight. Come away, yourself, as quietly 

 as you can : the poor heron is not often left in peace by those 

 who see it. Be, then, one of the few who treat the noble 

 bird with courtesy. 



It is not given to many to see a large heronry at 

 breeding time, but should the opportunity offer, it is well worth 

 your while. The size of the birds alone makes them inter- 

 esting, and the spectacle of so many flying to and fro at once 

 and the grotesque nestlings flopping about on their nests or 

 standing grimly but with uncertain foothold at the edges, their 

 half-humorous, half-wicked looks and gestures, will keep your 

 glasses to your eyes as long as friends will wait for you. The 

 noises that proceed from old and young alike are both solemn 

 and comical, disconcerted fragments of croaks and squeaks, 

 mingled with such discordant scraps of sound as a child trying 

 to blow a coach-horn might produce. The young ones too 

 keep falling off their perches, probably because the instinct to 

 try and stand on one leg is too strong for their prudence and 

 their thin knee-joints. They manage, as a rule, to scramble 

 and flap themselves on to other standpoints, but very often, 

 failing to make good their foothold, they fall to the ground, 

 when the parents seem to lose all further interest in them. 



