THE POND AT LOW TIDE 



that is no more than human picnickers 

 do when driven from the sea beach. 



The pond when full is ten feet deeper 

 than it is now. In May the water 

 lapped the forest roots on its edges; now 

 from the forest to the mud of the very 

 bottom where still the water lingers a 

 strip of slanting beach stretches for a 

 hundred yards. The crows are not the 

 only creatures which have made tracks 

 on this. Close by the edge in the soft 

 mud the heron has walked with dignity, 

 leaving footmarks that proceed precisely. 

 The heron may not have large ambitions, 

 but he is purposeful and does not turn 

 aside. The crows gurgled and ha-haed 

 over their clambake; the heron takes his 

 fish course as solemnly as if he were 

 taking the pledge. 



All along you will see where the squir- 

 rels have come down to drink, skipping 

 197 



