Deliberate, strong, steady, and 

 regular, the Great Blue Heron 

 moves through the upper air, now 

 outlined against the deep and 

 limitless azure, and now seeming 

 intent on burying himself in the 

 suspended folds and undulations 

 of fleecy cloud. He has travelled 

 from the warm, vapoury, and im- 

 penetrable marshes of the south, 

 and is breasting the clear, in- 

 vigorating northern air toward 

 his summer home in the forest. The city, with its 

 offensive odours, is but a small and trifling deface- 

 ment on the great continent he freely regards as his 

 own. The swamps are still solid with the lingering 

 ice. The Frogs and Snails that must provide his food 

 are still in the long sleep of winter. Fish that might 

 fall victims to his darting beak have not begun to 

 ascend the creeks and rivers. Yet, indifferent to the 

 season's delay, he pursues his northward course with 

 slow, unvaried strokes, his head drawn back and 

 resting on his closely curved neck, and his long legs 



149 



