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AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



The American Bittern's Song. 



By G. W. 



T was a beautiful day in early May. Through the cloudless 



sky the sun had shone from early morn, warming the green 



J JL I fields, shining on the glossy spring leaves and opening the 



| -^ I apple blossoms, until now it was slowly sinking, a red, fiery 



\f %r ball, behind a distant hill. A cool evening breeze was 



sweeping over the near by marshes, matting down the brown last year's 



grass, through which a river wound its way in and out to the ocean. 



Here and there lines of mist, soft and white, in the twilight marked the 



passage of some brook, or inlet of the river. 



Among the sedges and tuffs of sea grass stood a lone fisherman, the 

 Bittern. Not a muscle of his body moved, even his eye seemed made 

 of glass. Now and then as a wagon rumbled over a distant bridge, he 

 slowly lowered himself into the grass only in a few minutes to slowly 

 rise again as silent as ever. Once there was a dash of his long neck, 

 seeming to unroll itself from his shoulders, and the white belly of a 

 frog gleamed for a second from between his mandibles. At last as 

 twilight settled over the marshes, he slowly raised his head, thus mak- 

 ing himself about a foot taller than the surrounding grass, and calmly 

 gazed about. Then he slowly straightened himself and drew back his 

 wings, folding them tightly on his back, thus showing his light brown 

 sides. Standing thus he filled his lungs, by deep breaths, three or 

 four times. Then drawing his head between his shoulders he quickly 

 shot it up and out as if nauseated, and at the same time large bunches 

 went back and forth in his neck. 



When the head was drawn between the shoulders a peculiar squeak- 

 ing noise was made and when the air reached his mouth a sound like 

 rushing water filled the marsh- Three times he repeated this song in 

 succession and then after waiting about four minutes he again repeated 

 it three times, and so on always three times in succession, until dark- 

 ness crept over the land. Then with a loud squawk he flew out low 

 over the marshes to join some distant friends in sleep. 



Near at hand the song might be suggested by the words, pump-er- 

 lunk, or by the pumping of a lift pump. But at a distance the last 

 syllable only reaches the ear, making the sound from which he derives 

 the name stake driver. 



