fol gota nite apis Pann eld Nia 
Ns Ha ela ini ie ad aai ela dibs 
1878.] The Night Herons, and their Exodus, 33 
strations of astonishment and distress, much as a child who on 
an extremely cold day in winter, dancing with pain, complains that 
the door-knob has burnt his fingers. But though embarrassed by 
the situation, the young qua would repeat his efforts to get the 
frozen meat well down, until success resulted, when he would 
come for more; so that in this conflict of bird thinking, the judg- 
ment that the meat was good prevailed. In fact, this bird’s expe- 
rience with frozen meat was not unlike daft Jerry’s first acquaint- 
ance with ice cream: “This pudding zs good; but such a pity it 
got froze!” 
A very impudent, bossy bird, did the young qua grow up. 
Through the winter months the arena of his daily exercises was 
the barn-yard, which also was the scene of occasional night 
activities quite annoying to the more orderly disposed denizens 
of the place. His movements, even when “ feeling good,” were 
always awkward, and in no sense graceful; while from the depth 
of his inner consciousness was evolved a conduct so absolutely 
graceless as to almost indicaté a deep-seated depravity. He 
would pursue the domestic animals, harrying the poultry and 
the old dog, presenting his formidable bill to those who owed 
him nothing, not even their good will. He knew his young 
master well, and paid him a sort of deference which he did to no 
one else. But though there was a kind of attachment, affection 
there was none. In fact his master was simply his feeder, to whom 
he was drawn by a very active appetite; this craving for food satis- 
fied, even his keeper was but little more to him than other folks. 
At length the cold season was over, and my young friend was 
glad to know that he had wintered his charge safely. He had 
_ begun to speculate how much longer he would have to keep the 
young qua bird ere it would attain to the plumage of its parents. 
Die spring is well advanced, and the pet is about ten months old. 
_ See it is looking skyward and southward. Nay, it seems listen- 
ing. Sure enough, the cry of qua! is heard in the air. The 
herons are coming. That cry is from the avant courier of the 
returning community. As the young bird looks up it is evidently 
undergoing a change in its feelings. There is another cry as if 
_ from the second outrider of the approaching host. The pet heron 
seems well nigh beside itself. It has never seen the “sunny 
_ clime,” but it has caught that mysterious passion, the semi-annual 
_ frenzy of these birds. Its bird nature seems suddenly developed 
—and the bird soul is now above pellets of frozen mutton, and: 
VOL, X11.—No. 1. 3 
