438 Bailey, Plum Island Night Herons. [ ct. 



the varied voices and clamor of the birds here, and the sounds of 

 the surrounding region, that I can even now after several years, 

 call them all distinctly to mind, from the plaintive piping of the 

 hungry young to the answering or alarmed raucous squawks of the 

 mature birds, and the low, droning undertone of the surf on the 

 shore or the swish and flutter of the leaves over my hiding place 

 as the hot wind drew through the hollow. And I have but to hear 

 the uncanny " quawk" of a night heron passing over of a summer 

 evening, to bring at once to my mind the pleasant hours spent in 

 the haunts of the birds here on the Island. 



To-day, while sitting here in my brushy covert under some low 

 and stunted trees, watching the comings and goings of the birds, 

 a deer came daintily and noiselessly along through the undergrowths 

 and caught sight of me almost at the moment that I discovered him. 

 One inquiring glance of a moment served to satisfy him of the nature 

 of the danger he was encountering and away he went in precipitate 

 haste with white flag flying, doubtless greatly surprised to find 

 his haunts inhabited by other tenants than the feathered ones he 

 was familiar with. 



Seven other species of birds beside the Green and the Black- 

 crowned Night Herons, I have found or am certain breed here 

 on Plum Island in the immediate vicinity of the rookery. At 

 least three pairs of Crows nested in the larger trees in the rookery 

 proper and probably more in the several neighboring wooded hol- 

 lows. Crow and Red-winged Blackbirds were fairly numerous. I 

 counted eleven nests of the former in the low undergrowth of the 

 basin and found two of the Redwings in the rose bushes and grass 

 in a little open space near the center and lowest part of the hollow. 



Kingbirds while not in close proximity to the heronry were 

 common out in the more open bushy country near at hand. Cat 

 birds and Brown Thrashers nested in the thickest tangles and from 

 the many Maryland Yellowthroats seen and heard, I concluded 

 there must have been nearly a dozen pairs nesting in the nearby 

 lowland cover. One of the characteristic bird voices of the Island, 

 wherever you go, back a little way from the shore and deeper 

 rumble of the surf, is that of the Savannah Sparrow (Passerculus 

 sandivichensis savanna). His song though weak and insect-like 

 has a carrying quality and reaches one's ear when the small minstrel 



