The American Bittern 



It is "miasmatic," repulsive, and, above all, useless. And the bittern, 

 who dwells there, has become the very symbol of desolation. Doubtless, 

 the prophet had first descried the bird at rest, with his head drawn in, 

 his plumage relaxed and drooping, like a rudely thatched roof, and he 

 himself looking not unlike a deserted hut, fit emblem of the melancholy 

 morass. But if the prophet's observation stopped there, he missed 

 knowing one of the oddest, weirdest, most elusive, and most versatile of 

 all the feathered kind. 



The Bittern has no desire to become famous. When suddenly 

 flushed, the bird makes off with a low, frightened quawk on heavy, noise- 

 less wings; but if he has a moment's warning and the ghost of a show at 

 concealment, our bird stretches instead to an enormous height, holding 

 the long bill vertically, and becomes rigid. Instead of a bulky fowl, he 

 has become, to all intents and appearances, a slender reed-clump; and it 

 requires the closest scrutiny to distinguish the bird with his streaky 

 yellows and greens and browns, even after he has been pointed out. 

 Indeed, one careful observer 1 relates how a bittern, caught in a sparse 

 cover of cat-tails, was seen to sway to and fro in rhythmical obedience to a 

 breeze which agitated his vegetable brethren. When the wind subsided 

 the bird stopped, and when it freshened he resumed. Surely the simu- 

 lative art could go no further. Even in the open, the bird will pose as 

 a stake or a weed, and often quite successfully, relaxing or flying only 

 when the danger has passed by. 



This curious fowl is most at home in the weedy fastnesses of the 

 swamp. Here he skulks or feeds by day; but as twilight approaches he 

 becomes much more active, and stirs about among the reeds hunting 

 snails and the larvae of aquatic insects; or else he wades with deliberate 

 step into the more open places in search of frogs, crayfish, and minnows. 

 If the fishing is poor, he may venture up into the meadows in search of 

 mice or moles. The bird takes foolish chances, and specimens are still 

 brought into town by youthful hunters who persist in shooting strange 

 creatures at sight — for no better reason than that they are strange. For 

 all that the Bittern is so large to appearance, it is a light-weight, a mere 

 mass of skin and feathers, not so heavy as some ducks. A light charge 

 of fine shot will bring it down; but if it is only wounded, beware of that 

 sharp beak, which shoots out like lightning and strikes the eye of dog 

 or master with deadly precision. 



It is not, however, upon his beauty nor upon his weight that the 

 Bittern's reputation rests, but upon his wonderful voice. The moonlight 

 serenade which this ardent lover accords his mistress is one of the most 

 outlandish performances in nature. Take an air-tight hogshead and 



'Professor W. B. Barrows, of the Michigan State Agricultural College: Auk, Vol. XXX.. Apr., 1013, pp. 187-190. 



1917 



