THE MARSH 



399 



of the marsh in the upland. The flight 

 of the great blue heron from one feed- 

 ing ground to the other — what a fine 

 sight it is ! He does not tarry over the 

 foreign territory, nor does he hurry. 

 With neck and head furled close and 

 his legs straight out behind, he pursues 

 his course, neither swerving nor looking 

 to right or left. A crow's flight may or 

 may not be straight, but the heron's al- 

 ways is. His is the calm course of one 

 with a purpose, unmindful of other mat- 

 ters. The blackbirds, however, are 

 more neighborly. They forage in the 

 foreign territory, returning at night to 

 sleep. 



In nesting time, the red wing is in- 

 deed a citizen of the lowland. His voice 

 is as distinctive of the marsh as the 

 croak of the frog. It is one of the first 

 sounds that greets the ear from the dis- 

 tance. What a beautiful sound is his 

 clear whistle with its liquid break ! In- 

 deed, one might say that he is the only 

 singer of the marshlands. His is not a 

 sustained song, but the exuberant ex- 



pression of a happy soul, in a few beau- 

 tiful notes. 



The little marsh wren, according to 

 many writers, has no song. No song, 

 forsooth ! As well say that the farmer 

 boy's whistling as he follows the plow, 

 or the sailor's chant as he hoists the sail 

 is not music ! All are the songs of the 

 lowly, the melody of those glad to be 

 alive and out in the free air. 



When man goes to the marsh, the 

 marsh retires within itself as a turtle 

 retreats into its shell. With the excep- 

 tion of a few blackbirds and marsh 

 wrens babbling the nest secret and an 

 occasional frog croak, all the inhabi- 

 tants have retired. The spotted turtle 

 has slid from the decayed log as the 

 boat pushed through the reeds. The 

 heron has flown at your approach, and 

 the little sora rail has scuttled into the 

 reeds. 



Remain perfectly quiet and let the 

 marsh regain its composure. You have 

 been the sorely disturbing element. One 

 by one the tenants of the lowlands will 



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His is the calm course of one with a purpose 



