BESIDE THE MARSH. 35 



As I approached the creek, a single spotted 

 sandpiper was teetering along the edge of 

 the water, and the next moment a big blue 

 heron rose just beyond him and went flap- 

 ping away to the middle of the marsh. Now, 

 an hour afterward, he is still standing there, 

 towering above the tall grass. Once when I 

 turned that way I saw, as I thought, a stake, 

 and then something moved upon it, a bird 

 of some kind. And what an enormous beak ! 

 I raised my field-glass. It was the heron. 

 His body was the post, and his head was the 

 bird. Meanwhile, the sandpiper has stolen 

 away, I know not when or where. He must 

 have omitted the tweet, tweet, with which 

 ordinarily he signalizes his flight. He is the 

 first of his kind that I have seen during my 

 brief stay in these parts. 



Now a multitude of crows pass over ; fish 

 crows, I think they must be, from their small 

 size and their strange, ridiculous voices. And 

 now a second great blue heron comes in sight, 

 and keeps on over the marsh and over the 

 live-oak wood, on his way to the San Sebas- 

 tian marshes, or some point still more remote. 

 A fine show he makes, with his wide expanse 

 of wing, and his feet drawn up and standing 



