Deliberate, strong, steady, and 
regular, the Great Blue Heron 
moves through the upper air, now 
outlined against the deep and 
limitless azure, and now seeming 
intent on burying himself in the 
suspended folds and undulations 
of fleecy cloud* He has travelled 
from the warm, vapoury, and im- 
penetrable marshes of the south, 
and is breasting the clear, in- 
vigorating northern air toward 
his summer home in the forest* The city, with its 
offensive odours, is but a small and trifling deface- 
ment on the great continent he freely regards as his 
own* The swamps are still solid with the lingering 
ice* The Frogs and Snails that must provide his food 
are still in the long sleep of winter* Fish that might 
fall victims to his darting beak have not begun to 
ascend the creeks and rivers* Yet, indifferent to the 
season's delay, he pursues his northward course with 
slow, unvaried strokes, his head drawn back and 
resting on his closely curved neck, and his long legs 
149 
