Herons and Bitterns 



To say that this is the most sociable member of a family that 

 contains many misanthropic hermits, gives little idea of the night 

 heron's fondness for society. Colonies of hundreds of pairs are still 

 to be found, thanks to the bird's secluded and nocturnal habits. 

 Some heronries contain these birds living among the blue, the 

 great blue, or the green species, but in no very advanced state of 

 socialism, however, for the gossiping and noisy quawhing over 

 petty quarrels that constantly arise make the place a pande- 

 monium. Wilson, who usually pays only the kindest, most 

 appreciative compliments to birds, likens the noise made by 

 these to that of two or three hundred Indians choking each other! 



Not because the flesh of this bird is good for food, or its 

 plumage is desired for hats, but because it is a nuisance in the 

 neighborhood where civilization creeps upon the ancient eyries, 

 is the night heron hunted. Flocks become so attached to the 

 home of their ancestors, that only the harshest persecution drives 

 them away, and then often no further than a few hundred rods 

 A sickening stench pervades the air blowing off a heronry; 

 decomposed portions of fish, frogs, mice, and other animal food 

 lie about on the ground, that is white with the birds' excrements. 

 At Roslyn, Long Island, almost within sight of New York, a 

 large colony of night herons that were driven from a populated 

 portion of the town, where they had nested and roosted for 

 many years, finally settled in a well wooded swamp not far off 

 only after disgraceful persecution. One man boasts of having 

 shot three hundred. Nevertheless there must be a thousand 

 birds there still. For their protection, it should be added that 

 there are few less inviting places to visit on a summer's day 

 than this heronry. Certainly there is as much sport in shooting 

 at the broad side of a barn as in hitting one of these large birds 

 that, dazed by the sunlight, sits motionless on a distended branch, 

 where any tyro could hit it blindfolded. 



The night herons arrive from the south about the middle 

 of April, and at once repair what is left of the rickety platforms 

 of sticks used a previous season, or build new ones. The 

 wonder is they can weave any sort of a lattice out of such stiff, 

 unyielding material. These nests are generally in the tops of tall 

 trees, especially the cypresses, swamp oaks, and maples and 

 evergreens near or growing out of a swamp; but there are also 

 records of nests in bushes, or even on the ground. Often fluffy, 



167 



