BY INLAND WATERS 113 



still is, a common summer inhabitant of our swampy- 

 ponds and river swales, as well as of larger lakes and 

 clearer streams. It is a diurnal bird, and conse- 

 quently much more often observed than almost 

 any of its fellows, frequently rising from the rushes 

 or the bank ahead of a canoe, and qua-qua-ing loudly 

 as it flies off not far above the water. In fact, one 

 of its popular names is "fly-up-the-creek," doubt- 

 less from this habit of keeping to the water path as 

 it moves away. It lives chiefly on frogs, minnows, 

 crayfish, and such other small fry as it can extract 

 from the water, and builds its nest, a rough and 

 slovenly affair of sticks, quite characteristic of its 

 own lack of daintiness, low down in some willow or 

 other tree by the edge of the pond or stream. I 

 remember finding such a nest once when a small 

 boy, and thinking with disgust that I had never 

 seen anything more ugly than the scrawny, pin- 

 feathered, long necks and tremendous open mouths 

 of the little herons. But not all baby birds can be 

 chickens or young ruffed grouse, and as the wild 

 life both of our woods and streams has grown less 

 and less as the years have gone on, I have learned 

 to appreciate more what is left, particularly those 

 humbler species, like the little green heron, which 

 have shown a sturdy ability to look after them- 

 selves, and what appears almost like a determina- 

 tion to make the best of a bad situation — man and 

 his works being the bad situation, of course — and 

 go about their business as usual. 



A larger and rather more interesting bird of the 

 marshy waters is the bittern, or, as many folks call 

 it, the stake-driver — not because it drives stakes, 



