186 LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. 



My friend's stop-watch recorded thirty-seven 

 seconds as the normal interval between the last 

 pump of one performance and the first snap of 

 the succeeding one. Twice during an hour the 

 bittern sank beneath the grass and glided to a 

 new spot. Once I caught a glimpse of him 011 

 his way, and he seemed to be moving more rap- 

 idly than the duration of his concealment indi- 

 cated. From his third station he took flight, 

 and, with long, graceful wing-strokes, flew an 

 eighth of a mile down the meadow and alighted 

 on the exact spot in which I had found him the 

 Monday evening preceding. We hastened back 

 to the turnpike and sought the cover I had 

 previously used. As we listened to the bird at 

 a distance, with a grove of trees interrupting his 

 notes, the only sound which we could hear was 

 the " ka," which, under the changed conditions 

 became the true stake-driving " chuck " or 

 " tock." The nearer we came to the bird, the 

 less there remained of this acoustic metamorpho- 

 sis, and as we crawled cautiously through the 

 woods to the edge of the swamp nearest him it 

 disappeared altogether, and to our ears the 

 " kung-ka-unk " was as distinct as before. We 

 listened to and watched the strange genius of 

 the marsh until he stopped his performance at 

 twenty minutes of eight ; but our thoughts were 

 at times diverted from him. 



