T. GILBERT PEARSON. 



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the food is swallowed. These birds often quit the water, 

 and may then be seen walking over the prairie half a mile 

 from any lake. This is oftener the case soon after rains, 

 when water remains in the slight depressions. The habit is 

 mainly indulged in by the Snowy and Little Blue Herons. 

 They seem to have no fear of cattle, but pass fearlessly 

 among them, and I have on rare occasions seen them perch 

 on the backs of the animals, as Blackbirds sometimes do. 

 By removing the saddle from my horse and allowing him to 

 approach slowly, and at the same time shielding my body, I 

 have often been able to come within a few yards of the 

 feeding birds. 



Herons do not as a rule frequent in numbers the few 

 streams we have, the deep water along the shore not being 

 suitable for their mode of capturing food. One may often 

 pass down the Oklawaha or Suwannee for a mile or two 

 without seeing a single large wader, unless, perchance, it be 

 a Green Heron, which turns up on all occasions, and in all 

 places where water is found. 



If we wish to see the herons at home we must quit the 

 prairies and go to their breeding grounds. These places 

 may be found on some boggy island covered with trees or 

 bushes ; at a pond in the hummock in which buttonwood 

 trees grow ; or in the depths of the cypress swamps. Here, 

 amid the wild scenes of a Southern morass, one pauses as 

 he nears the heronry, and in wonder listens to the discordant 

 cries of a multitude of breeding birds. Never shall I forget 

 one beautiful morning in March, when in search of Anhingas 

 I wandered into a cypress swamp where many herons were 

 breeding in the trees surrounding a little patch of open 

 water. As our boat glided among the cypresses, from 

 whose low-hanging limbs swung long festoons of gray 

 moss, so effectually shutting out the rays of the morning 

 sun that only here and there was the dark water flecked 

 with patches of quivering light, the breeze which swayed 

 the topmost boughs brought to our ears the clamor of nesting 



