174 A HISTORY OF 



CHAPTER IV. 



OP THE BITTERN, OR MIRE-DRUM 



THOSE who have walked in an evening by the sedgy sides of un 

 frequented rivers, must remember a variety of notes from different 

 water-fowl : the loud scream of the wild-goose, the croaking of the 

 mallard, the whining of the lapwing, and the tremulous neighing of 

 the jacksnipe. But of all these sounds there is none so dismally hoi- 

 low as the booming of the bittern. It is impossible for words to give 

 those who have not heard this evening call an adequate idea of its 

 solemnity. It is like the uninterrupted bellowing of a bull, but hoi- 

 lower and louder, and is heard at a mile's distance, as if issuing from 

 some formidable being that resided at the bottom of the waters. 



The bird, however, that produces this terrifying sound, is not so 

 big as a heron, with a weaker bill, and not above four inches long. 

 It differs from the heron chiefly in its colour, which is in general a 

 palish yellow, spotted and barred with black. Its wind-pipe is fitted 

 to produce the sound for which it is remarkable ; the lower part of it 

 dividing into the lungs is supplied with a thin loose membrane that 

 can be filled with a large body of air, and exploded at pleasure 

 These bellowing explosions are chiefly heard from the beginning of 

 spring to the end of autumn ; and, however awful they may seem to 

 us, are the calls to courtship, or of connubial felicity. 



From the loudness and solemnity of the note, many have been led 

 to suppose that the bird made use of external instruments to produce 

 it, and that so small a body could never eject such a quantity of tone. 

 The common people are of opinion that it thrusts its bill into a reed 

 that serves as a pipe for swelling the note above its natural pitch ; 

 while others, and in this number we find Thomson, the poet, imagine 

 that the bittern puts its head under water, and then violently blowing 

 produces its boomings. The fact is, that the bird is sufficiently pro- 

 vided by Nature for this call, and it is often heard where there are 

 neither reeds nor waters to assist its sonorous invitations. 



It hides in the sedges by day, and begins its call in the evening, 

 booming six or eight times, and then discontinuing for ten or twenty 

 minutes to renew the same sound. This is a call it never gives but 

 when undisturbed and at liberty. When its retreats among the 

 sedges are invaded, when it dreads or expects the approach of an 

 enemy, it is then perfectly silent. This call it has never been heard 

 to utter when taken or brought up in domestic captivity ; it contin- 

 ues, under the control of man, a mute forlorn bird, equally incapable 

 of attachment or instruction. But though its boomings are always 

 performed in solitude, it has a scream which is generally heard upon 

 *he seizing its prey, and which is sometimes extorted by fear. 



