The Heron in Flight 295 



to watch them. The water is then low ; numerous small 

 islands appear, and long narrow sandbanks run out fifty 

 or sixty yards, with shoals on either side. After a very 

 dry season the level of the water is so much reduced that 

 in the broadest (and shallowest) part the actual strand 

 where the water begins is a hundred yards or more from 

 the nearest hedge. This is just what the heron likes, be- 

 cause no one can approach him over that flat expanse of 

 dried mud without being immediately detected. I have 

 seen as many as eight herons standing together in a row 

 on one such narrow sandbank in the daytime, in regular 

 order like soldiers : there were six more on adjacent 

 islands. They were not feeding — simply standing motion- 

 less. As soon as it grew dark they dispersed, and ventured 

 then down the lake to those places near which footpaths 

 passed. 



But although the night seems the heron's principal 

 feeding time, he frequently fishes in the day. Generally, 

 his long neck enables him to see danger, but not always. 

 Several times I have come right on a heron, when the 

 banks of the brook were high and the bushes thick, before 

 he has seen me, so as to be for the moment within five 

 yards. His clumsy terror is quite ludicrous : try how he 

 will he cannot fly fast at starting ; he requires fifty yards 

 to get properly under way. 



What a contrast with the swift snipe, that darts off at 

 thirty miles an hour from under your feet! The long 

 hanging legs, the stretched-out neck, the wide wings and 

 body, seem to offer a mark which no one could possibly 

 miss : yet, with an ordinary gun and snipe-shot, I have 

 had a heron get away safely like this more than once. 

 You can hear the shot rattle up against him, and he utters 

 a strange, harsh, screeching ' quaack,' and works his wings 



