344 THE ENCAMPMENT OF THE HERONS. 
never killed anything larger than a robin, and now were 
all agog to cover themselves with glory by shooting a 
quawk, frequented the spot nearly every day during that 
summer. The first thing which called the attention of 
the explorer was the whiteness of the ground, owing to 
the excrements of the birds; the air, hot and close, was 
loaded with its keen, penetrating odor ; the fine particles 
of it, floating in the air and coming in contact with the 
perspiring body, made one smart all over. There was 
also a smell of the decaying fish which lay around, some 
dropped by accident by the old birds (who, I believe, never 
stoop to pick them up again), and much more disgorged 
by the young when their tree was assailed. These fish 
were mostly such as could not be obtained in the ponds 
and rivers. I once saw a piece of a pout, and once @ 
fragment of a pickerel, but most of the remains were 
those of herrings. On the branches of some of the trees 
I have seen eels hanging with their heads digested of. 
The rough nests were always built against the trunks of 
the trees, six or eight feet from the top; and sometimes 
two, three, or even four might be seen in one cedar. The 
light-green eggs were usually four in number, but I have 
seen five and six repeatedly, and, once, seven in a nest. 
e young are downy, soft, helpless things at first, but 
soon gain strength enough to climb to the upper branches 
where they hang on with bill and claws, and are fed by 
their parents till nearly full-grown. Two broods are 
often reared in a single year, and it is no uncommon 
thing to see four or five of the first brood sitting on the 
tree-top, while the nest below contains as many more of 
their younger brothers and sisters; both lots, of courses 
to be fed by their parents. They climb clumsily, and 
seem, at every step, to be in immediate danger of falling, 
