390 Least Bittern 



then, as I gazed, the motion of the reeds ceased and the object blended 

 with the reed stalks and disappeared. Puzzled and curious, I waited, 

 but nothing more happened. Laying my fishing-pole on the lily-pads, I 

 picked up the paddle and slowly and cautiously pushed the boat forward. 

 Not until the prow of the boat came to a stop within 5 feet of the spot 

 I was so intently watching were my eyes able to again outline the yellow- 

 ish brown mass whose movements I had watched a few moments before. 

 Grasping the stem of a stalwart reed, with body erect and long bill 

 pointed skyward, there stood a bird, silent and motionless as the rushes 

 around it. Can any bird of the wilderness, by remaining motionless, be 

 better hidden in its surroundings than the Least Bittern? If so, I have 

 yet to meet it. After watching my neighbor for a minute, or two, I 



Wh p slowly arose and started toward the front end of the 



c boat. At this, the bird lowered its head and, with one 



bound, sprang from its hiding. The instant for flight 

 had come ; the light yellow eyes gazing at me from either side of its up- 

 turned bill had told it that its deception had been discovered, that a 

 probable enemy was fast approaching. 



With dangling legs and labored beating of wings the bird flew over 

 the reeds, much as young birds fly, and, looking at it for the first time, 

 one might expect it to fall from sheer weakness. However, the flight 

 soon became stronger, and, stretching its legs out straight behind, it was 

 soon going with ease and at a fairly rapid rate. Three hundred yards 

 away it dropped from sight among the rushes and was seen no more. 



Turning to look again at the cluster of rushes from which the bird 

 had flown, I discovered its nest a large, double handful of rush leaves 

 and water grasses, perhaps eight inches across the top. It was held in 

 place by the surrounding rushes and was supported by a mass of the 

 previous year's growth that had died and were bent down. In the slightly 

 depressed top lay four pale blue eggs about an inch and a quarter in 

 length. No wonder the bird wanted to hide, perhaps feeling that when 

 it flew its treasures might be revealed. Later in the day I again visited 

 the nest and found the bird at home, or, as I have always believed, the 

 mate of the one that was there in the morning, for its behavior was totally 

 ._ different. As I approached, instead of raising its bill 



~ as if in silent supplication to heaven, and "freezing" 



as still and rigid as the rushes about it, it merely 

 squatted low, spreading its wings as if to shield the nest from view. 

 With the feathers of its neck raised and head drawn back in a threatening 

 attitude, it showed clearly its anxiety and willingness to strike if the 

 intruder upon its solitary domain should approach too closely. That it 

 was quite capable of doing this was quickly shown when, upon reaching 

 out my hand, that sharp and strong beak made a vicious stroke which, 

 had the blow gone home, would most assuredly have drawn blood. 



Sixteen days are required for the eggs of the Least Bittern to hatch, 

 but long before this period had passed my duties had taken me elsewhere, 

 and I was not to see the babies in their cradle, or ever to learn whether 

 they escaped the dangers that beset the little wild birds that begin life in 

 the marsh. 



Another time, in a distant state, I again invaded the haunts of the 



