160 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



for a second or two, then were gulped down as 

 a hen swallows a morsel a little big for her ca- 

 pacity. 



It would seem that the legs and chelas of a 

 good lively crawfish might tickle and pinch the 

 long gullet of a heron but if so there was no 

 sign of the inward turmoil in the bird at hand. 

 Again it bent over for another prolonged gaze 

 into the water. As yet it had no inkling that 

 a second watcher was near. Its mate, however, 

 came flying by and spying me uttered a single 

 squawk of alarm. The one which was fishing 

 for "crawdads" heard and on the instant acted. 

 Glancing quickly up and around it too saw me 

 just behind it and with a cackle of disgust left 

 for pastures new. 



Thus do herons hunt. For hours 'the great 

 blue will stand seemingly half asleep and mop- 

 ing, but no eye more keen for the slightest move 

 of frog or fish. Absolutely silent, without the 

 movement of a muscle, it awaits motion to 

 plainly see its victim ; then a bill thrust as of a 

 transfixing dagger and the fuel of life is theirs. 



Each bird, each mammal, each form of life 

 of any kind has its own ways and times of prey- 

 ing upon its fellow creatures. For ages thus 

 have they sought food, their entire bodies be- 

 coming meanwhile admirably adapted to their 

 manner of pursuit. The long legs enabling the 



