How the Green Heron Wandered 



17 



J / ♦ THE CANOEHOUSE MANAGER PUSHED 



the canoe into the water. I stepped into it, adjusted the pil- 

 lows and made myself comfortable. 



"Do you think youll have an interesting trip?" he asked. 



"You can never tell. Anything may turn up in August," I 

 replied. "It may be just a humdrum day or it could be like 

 the time when I first saw one of those fellows." I pointed to a 

 brown-colored bird which had just dropped into a willow 

 on the point. 



I paddled across the little bay, not cutting in toward the 

 willow but close enough to look over this hunched-up, long- 

 billed, and dark-colored creature as it stood on a branch 

 halfway up the tree and watched me pass. 



It is rather a common bird now in the marsh, but I re- 

 membered the first time that it came and the sensation that 

 it caused. It was one of those unexpected adventures which 

 caused me to continue my visits. When I reached the canoe- 

 house that morning some years ago, I had no idea that I was 

 to meet a problem which was to prove the most interesting 

 that marsh wildlife had yet presented. This is what hap- 

 pened. 



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