motes of tbc 1Kf0bt 



golden bloom, sunflowers of several kinds, and the 

 yellow tick that grows on every bank of ditch or 

 brook, were now in mourning. The blossoms ap- 

 peared almost black in the hazy atmosphere, but 

 this was the only uncheerful feature. Everywhere 

 the air trembled with the songs of insect life, yet 

 loud as was the sound made by these busy millions, 

 it did not drown the coarse cry of the herons that 

 flew by me. I startled two that had no expecta- 

 tion of being disturbed. I could see where they 

 settled by a deep ditch, and walked more care- 

 fully, that I might watch them feeding. These 

 birds have acute hearing as well as excellent vision, 

 and it required some care to reach a commanding 

 outlook, and not be discovered. This I did, how- 

 ever, and was well repaid. What a superb bird in 

 these commonplace corners of the country is the 

 great blue heron. I supposed that they were all 

 quietly at home at this time of the night, but this 

 pair were wide awake and seemed as much at 

 ease in the moonlight as when, at noon, they stalk 

 like sentinels the muddy banks of the creek or 

 skulk among the reeds and wild rice on the river 

 shore. The birds before me were feeding, but 

 what they captured I could not tell. Their stately 

 figures cast grotesque shadows on the still water, 

 and their actual movements were ludicrous as I 

 saw them, the birds being inky black, and the nar- 

 row necks not always discernible, though the 

 head and back were. 



39 



