476 THE GREEN HERON. 
the tree-tops with all haste, or else alights easily upon some midway branch 
to reconsider the danger. Here he may pace restlessly to and fro along the 
limb, craning his neck and twitching his tail, and acting altogether very ner- 
vous, or he may “freeze” in some protective attitude until the danger is past. 
Opportunity is thus afforded for a study at close range of a plumage which 
is unusually handsome, especially as regards the bottle-green and glaucous 
shades of the upper parts. 
The ordinary fare of this little Heron consists of minnows, frogs, snails, 
leeches, etc., but as the season advances, beetles and other insects, with their 
larvee, are added. Dr. Jones tells of a bird which he once saw stretched out 
flat on a slanting log at a point where it ran under water, and beneath which 
various kinds of minnows had found a congenial shelter. ‘The bird was 
resting motionless, with its bill at the water’s edge, when suddenly it darted 
its head under the water and withdrew a wriggling minnow. ‘This it swal- 
lowed at once and then waited at ready, as before. Sometimes a quarter of 
an hour would pass before the next fish, silly or forgetful, would venture too 
near the waiting spear. The Heron returned to his lowly station daily, and 
watched with the patience of an E'squimau until the hole was fished out. 
Old orchards are favorite places of resort for these birds during the 
nesting season. Altho not in any strict sense gregarious, several pairs will 
sometimes appear in the same orchard, and two or three nests have been 
found in a single tree. After these the thick clumps of water willows which 
grow in the deepest water of tiny swamps and kettle-holes, are almost sure 
to contain nests; and a chance nest may be found ten or fifteen feet up in 
some crowded thicket of slim saplings. The nest is a shallow but substantial 
platform, made out of twigs and sticks up to a fourth of an inch in diameter, 
and it is lodged securely upon spreading branches. ‘here is no suspicion of 
lining, and the four or five greenish blue eggs need no adornment to enhance 
their beauty. 
The parent birds are very solicitous for their eggs and young, and employ, 
in their efforts to discourage investigation, an exceedingly low type of Dutch. 
Besides disgusting execrations, which are half hiss and half caw, the anxious 
bird cries snkowk, in a loud voice, and flirts its wings and jerks its tail in 
a manner which would intimidate a smaller foe. 
A nestful of callow young is an interesting sight. At a signal from the 
old bird the youngsters pause and freeze with upturned beaks, looking like 
a tiny group of palisades done in bronze. They know, too, when to be silent; 
and one would not often discover them save for the abundance of whitewash 
which adorns the surrounding limbs and the ground below. If disturbed 
they can clamber out of the nest and make off across the surrounding branches 
with great agility. 
