THE HERON. 383 



both great pain and great inconvenience would ensue, and soon force 

 it to resume the common process of incubation. The thighs, by 

 being stretched asunder, would be thrown out of their ordinary bear- 

 ings ; and the feathers, by coming in contact with the outer materials 

 of which the nest is formed, would be forced into a direction quite 

 opposite to that which they have received from the hand of nature. 

 Hence we may safely conclude that neither the herons, nor any other 

 birds of the creation, ever perform their incubation with their legs on 

 the outside of the nest. 



In the day-time this bird seldom exhibits any very extraordinary 

 activity. Although it will fly from place to place at intervals, still it 

 seems to pass the greater part of the time betwixt sunrise and sunset 

 quietly on the bank of a stream, or on the branch of a tree, often 

 with one leg drawn up under the body in a most picturesque manner. 

 But, as soon as the shades of night set in, the heron becomes as 

 anxious and impatient as a London alderman half an hour before the 

 Lord Mayor's festive dinner. It walks up and down the bank, or 

 moves from branch to branch with extraordinary activity, every now 

 and then stretching out its wings, and giving us to understand, by 

 various gesticulations, that it is about to commence its nocturnal 

 peregrinations in quest of food. One loud and harsh cry, often 

 repeated, now informs you that the heron is on wing, wending its 

 way to some distant river, swamp, or creek. I suspect that this cry 

 is never uttered but when the bird is flying. 



Formerly we had a range of fishponds here, one above the other, 

 covering a space of about three acres of ground. Close by them ran 

 a brook, from which the water-rats made regular passages through 

 the intervening bank into the ponds. These vermin were engaged 

 in never-ceasing mischief. No sooner was one hole repaired than 

 another was made; so that we had the mortification to see the ponds 

 generally eight or ten inches below water-mark. This encouraged 

 the growth of weeds to a most incommodious extent, which at last 

 put an end to all pleasure in fishing. Finding that the "green mantle 

 from the standing pool " was neither useful nor pleasant, I ordered 

 the ponds to be drained, and a plantation to be made in the space of 

 ground which they had occupied. Had I known as much then as I 

 know now of the valuable services of the heron, and had there been 



