yO MEMOIRS OF THE NUTTALL ORNITHOLOGICAL CLUB 



on Pine Island, back of the beach at Ipswich. This island, probably once covered 

 with pines, is now densely filled with red oaks. In these trees the herons nested 

 in 1871 and 1872. I quote from Mr. Le Baron's notes : " Unprincipalled and low- 

 lived would-be gunners come from town and other places, and shoot wagon-loads 

 of them. They tear down their nests and kill the callow young. The island reeks 

 with the stench from their dead bodies. . . . 1875. These birds are all gone. Not 

 over a dozen pair can be found on any of the islands in a circuit of six miles. 

 So much for indiscriminate slaughter." This is an interesting commentary on 

 the customs of former days. In consequence of the protection afforded these 

 birds at the present day, they are undoubtedly increasing in numbers. 



There is a heronry not far from the southern end of Plum Island. In 1914, 

 it was about an acre and a half in extent in a hollow in the dunes. There were 

 several hundred nests built in wild cherry, poplar, gray birch and pitch pine. 



The heronry that has especially interested me of late years is one that I have 

 watched from its beginnings in the large grove in the Ipswich dunes lying to 

 the east of Wigwam Hill. This grove, which is extending rapidly to the south, 

 is composed almost entirely of pitch pines. There are a few gray birches and 

 white maples. The grove had always been a favorite roost for Night Herons 

 during the day, and several hundred of these birds often rose up to greet the 

 intruder but they did not nest there. In the summer of 1916, I found that several 

 pairs had nested and counted 25 nests. In 1917, 1 counted 167 nests and believed 

 from the number of birds that there were many more I had overlooked. The 

 numbers had again increased in 1918 and I decided to make a census in the winter 

 when the birds had flown. 



On December 29, 1918, I began to take the census, with the help of Messrs. 

 H. G. Balch and Charles Townsend, by counting the nests in a tree, recording 

 them and tying a white string around the trunk so as to avoid counting the same 

 tree over again. This we soon found was slow work and very cold for the fingers. 

 There was a light snow on the ground and we found that it was much simpler and 

 fully as effectual to mark the tree by stamping the snow at the foot of the trunk. 

 In this way the count was accurate as far as it went. It is probable we over- 

 looked a few trees on the periphery of the roost, but on the other hand we may 

 have counted some old nests that were not used the previous season. I believe 

 that the census is therefore nearly accurate. There were 761 nests in all, from 

 one to eight in a tree, and 492 nesting trees. The nests vary in size from thin 

 flimsy affairs to thick bulky masses of twigs. These twigs and small branches 

 are so completely interwoven that the nest stands a good deal of rough handling 

 without coming to pieces. Nests blown from the trees are often found intact 

 on the ground. The construction of the nest must call for considerable skill in 

 weaving on the part of the birds. 



