THE FROG RENDEZVOUS 



out from the catarrhal throat of a night 

 heron that is just sailing down. The 

 gray squirrel shoots three feet into the 

 air, lands on another maple, flashes up 

 a birch and goes crashing through the 

 birch tops off into the woods, where 

 you faintly hear him jawing still. The 

 night heron whirls with a great flap- 

 ping and puts to sea \vith more quawks 

 of alarm. But these two were not es- 

 pecially wanted at the concert. The 

 night heron particularly is an unlovely 

 bird in appearance, voice, and manner. 

 The skippers and the lucky bugs crowd 

 in together, each among its kind, close 

 to the reedy margin, to be as near the 

 performers as possible, and behold, there 

 come sailing in from sea tiny argosies 

 of dainty people, the loveliest free swim- 

 mers of the pond. Golden heads nod- 

 ding in gracious recognition, they come, 



63 



