466 



THE LEAST BITTERN. 



Taken on 

 . A 



the Licking Reservoir fliolo by the Authc 

 NEST OF THE LEAST BITTERN. 



feet in the cat-tail tangle the 

 flapping wings, the straighten- 

 ing neck, the legs clumsily dan- 

 gled until the bird's balance is 

 gained, the noisy plash with 

 which he settles into the reeds 

 again all this seems awkward 

 enough. Or if you persist in 

 dashing after the stranger, hav- 

 ing noted his exact where- 

 abouts, see him as he stretches 

 to an incredible length, and 

 stiffens to the semblance of a 

 reed-stalk, slender, immov- 

 able, the very counterpart of 

 any of his sere and lifeless com- 

 panions. In this position, if 

 you avoid betraying your rec- 

 ognition by a too knowing gaze 

 at the bird's eye, you may even 

 get close enough to seize him 

 in the hands. The bird appar- 

 ently realizes what a sorry fig- 

 ure he cuts on the wing, and 

 flies only as a last resort. Even 

 when he wants to make a recon- 

 naissance, instead of taking a 

 turn a-wing, he climbs carefully 

 up some upright stalk, Wren- 

 fashion, and squints furtively 

 over the tops of the reeds. 



Amused criticism, how- 

 ever, turns to admiration when 

 we note the marvelous dexterity 

 with which the bird threads the 

 lawless mazes of a cat-tail 

 swamp. Now plashing softly 

 through a shallow, now scram- 

 bling nimbly over opposing 

 vegetation, he can soon quit 

 dangerous territory if he will. 



But the Least Bittern is a 



