434 Bailey, Plum Island Night Herons. LOct. 



Distance along the level beach is deceitful and a walk of any 

 given length, or with the goal or landmark ahead in sight, is seem- 

 ingly much longer because of the level unbroken character of the 

 surroundings and the difficulty of walking, the coarse yielding sand 

 affording but insecure footing for the pedestrian. Close to the 

 water's edge one finds the firmest though not always the safest 

 going, if dry feet are a consideration. 



Each wave of the ebbing tide leaves its autograph on the sand, 

 a record of "heights attained." The beach is strewn with the 

 shipwrecked homes of thousands of the order Mollusca and the 

 varied flotsam of the winter storms. 



Nearing the neighborhood of the rookery I found the beach 

 scored with the tracks of many herons. And about a half mile 

 ahead I descried apparently a patch of sand darker than usual 

 and through the glass learned that it was a company of nearly 200 

 birds, feeding along the shore, close to the water's edge. Here the 

 herons as well as many species of shore birds, have a spacious 

 feeding ground, the former during the entire season with us, the 

 latter for the brief space they tarry in this latitude; with food cast 

 up in abundance daily, the offal of the sea. A closer view of this 

 flock I thought would be decidedly interesting and a close range 

 shot at them with the camera, would give a picture of interest and 

 value. But long before I could get within range, even before I 

 was within 300 yards, they all took wing and went nearly a mile 

 farther down the beach. Yet my desire for a picture of them in 

 such surroundings was keen, so I put into practise the best tactics 

 in the fine art of stalking, taking to the leeward of the dunes and 

 being careful to keep well concealed behind them. But a little 

 later on making a reconnoissance over the tops of these opposite 

 to where I suppose the flock to be, I was rewarded with no better 

 view of them than I had before for they had again flown, this time 

 too far down the beach for me to follow. Some bird passing over- 

 head had probably given warning to his fellows of the approach of 

 an enemy. 



Returning up the beach, for in my chase I had gone considerably 

 past the rookery, I found the moist sand, much traced, crossed and 

 recrossed, with the imprints of many herons' feet, forming a 

 mosaic of triangular figures, but one without definite plan or de- 



