A Bittern Study 107 



ble, we would see him alight in the bog; so about half an hour before we thought 

 he would arrive from the lower meadow (where we could hear him, but not see 

 him), we took our places under the Bittern tree and waited nearly an hour for 

 him; then, duties calling us, we left, only to hear, before we were hardly up to 

 the house, the familiar pump-a-lunk from the bog. 



We had seen only one Bittern, and, as in our bird books there was no differ- 

 ence in the description of the male and female, we could not tell which it was, 

 but supposed it was the male. 



The cranberry bog lies northwest of the house, and southeast of the house 

 there is a pretty little pond, made by damming up the trout brook that crosses 

 the farm. At one point this brook runs within one hundred feet of the house, 

 and here we saw, one perfect Sunday morning in June (the 9th), the Bittern; 

 but not as we had seen him before, for on his back he wore two clusters of beau- 

 tiful white plumes that fluttered softly in the morning air. 



How proud he was! He stood perfectly still; he waded in the brook; he walked 

 slowly on its bank, all the time as conscious of his adorning as any beau, and 

 perfectly willing that the entire family should admire him— from the piazza. 

 He posed under the old apple tree beside the brook; the combination of grasses, 

 gnarled tree trunk and Bittern making a veritable Japanese scene. 



We were surprised and delighted, and went at once to our bird books to see 

 what the beautiful white feathers were called; but, alas, not a book mentioned 

 them! and later research at the library failed to reveal any information. Only 

 one spoke of them and said that Bitterns did not wear nuptial plumes. After 

 much thought, we decided that the Bittern must be like its relatives, the Egrets, 

 and wear nuptial plumes. We thought that the white feathers, or plumes, grew 

 from the region of the scapulars; there were several on each side, they were not 

 over five inches long and not less than three, and were soft and downy, and with 

 the aid of a glass we could see them flutter in the light wind. 



Many questions filled our minds: Had this beautiful creature just arrived? 

 Would it stay awhile? Where was the solitary bird that had been with us so long? 

 Was it still here, or had it shyly hidden itself away ? 



At least two of these questions were answered, for the next morning we saw 

 the Bittern of the Decoration stalking majestically through the cranberry bog, 

 and a few days later flushed from the side of the pond a Bittern with no white 

 plumes, so we felt sure there must be two. 



After this we neither heard nor saw the Bitterns for a long time, but we hoped 

 they nested in the cranberry bog. Our hopes were realized, for when the grass 

 around the bog was cut, the 30th of July, the men saw two small Bitterns in 

 the grass. One of them, sad to relate, was caught by the mowing machine and 

 killed before the driver knew of its presence, and, in order to save the life of 

 the other, who courted a like fate, he caught it, tied its legs and laid it in a safe 

 place, and, later, brought them both to the house. A Bittern on the lawn! In 

 our wildest dreams we had never thought of that! 



