Mar. , 1906 | 
HERONS AT HOME 
39 
selves loose from the shell with one foot, while they wrap the long, angular toes 
of the other about the nearest twig. 
The next time I sat in the tree top the place sounded more like a big duck 
ranch. Above all the squawks of the parents there was a steady quacking clatter 
of the hundreds of young herons, that never ceased. The sound grew more in- 
tense in spots, as here and there a mother swept in from the feeding ground and 
fed her children. As I sat watching, an old blue heron sailed in and lit on a 
branch above her nest in the adjoining tree. The three youngsters twisted in 
YOUNG NIGHT HERONS HANGING DEAD 20 FEET ABOVE THE GROUND, AND PHOTOGRAPHED 
EXACTLY AS FOUND 
The left-hand bird has fallen and caught by its foot in a crotch, thus hanging itself. The 
right-hand bird has merely the chin hooked over the limb; its right foot shows how in the 
death struggle it was clutching for a limb. 
Copyrighted 
ecstatic contortions as the mother stepped awkwardly along the limb. Each 
reached up in full height to grasp her long bill. She sat on the nest, calmly look- 
ing about. The young continued to catch her long beak and pull it part way 
down, endeavoring to make her feed them. When she got ready, she disgorged a 
mess of partially digested fish down the throat of each nestling and left as leisurely 
as she came. In another case, where the young were older, I saw the mother 
bird disgorge into the nest. The mass of undigested fish in her craw seemed to 
form into small portions and come up as the cud of a cow does, and each youngster 
