MEDITATIVE MOMENTS. 147 
he had dropped, and still pressed close by his pertinacious foes, he 
again disgorged what appeared to be a small fish. This was seen by 
one of the hooded crows, who swiftly descended, picked it up, and flew 
off with it, leaving his two companions to continue the battle. " The 
heron, having now got rid of one of his pursuers, determined to fly 
away in spite of all opposition. But his remaining assailants, either 
disappointed at the retreat of their comrade or irritated at the length 
of the struggle, recommenced their attack with renewed vigour. So 
artfully did they manage, that they kept the heron completely at bay, 
and bafiled all his endeavours to get away. Wearied at last of the 
contest, he once more dropped something, which from its length seemed 
to be an eel. On its being observed by his opponents, they quickly 
followed it. In their descent they fell a-fighting with each other. 
The consequence was that the eel, falling to the ground, was set upon 
by the magpies. The crows gave up fighting, descended to the ground, 
and assailed the magpies. The latter were soon repulsed. Then the 
crows seized hold of the eel with their bills, and kept pulling at it 
until eventually it broke in two. Each kept hold of his portion, when 
they shortly rose up and flew away amongst the trees. In the mean- 
time the heron was observed winging his way in the distance, sick at 
heart, because he had been plundered by thieves, and robbed of the 
food which he had intended for his family." 
The daytime is not the heron's period of activity. At intervals he 
stretches his wings by short flights in various directions, but his chief 
occupation from sunrise to sunset is to muse and dream — if herons can 
dream — on the bank of a stream or the branch of a tree, frequently 
with one leg drawn up under the body in a most picturesque fashion. 
But as soon as twilight gray has with its sober livery all things clad, 
the heron grows as anxious and as restless as — to use Waterton's com- 
parison — a London alderman half an hour before the Lord Mayor's 
festive dinnei'. Up and down the bank he stalks ; or he moves 
actively from branch to branch, every now and then stretching out 
his wings, and making known by his various gesticulations that he 
is on the point of beginning his nocturnal peregrinations in quest of 
food. One loud harsh cry, frequently repeated, is a sign that the 
