412 
[Sept. 15, 1906. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
NEST AND EGGS OF GALLINULE—IN GREATER NEW YORK. NEST AND EGGS OF GALLINULE—IN GREATER NEW YORK. 
the small sloughs, instead of the large marshes 
than is the Virginia. 
The only time I ever had experience with the 
housekeeping arrangements of the American 
bittern was in the summer of 1901, while camp¬ 
ing with a friend in the extensive marshes at 
Cayuga Lake. At that time we had never 
thought of the use of the camera in connection 
with bird study, else we might have had some 
very pleasing photographs of this and other 
marsh birds. Two nests of the bittern were 
found there, each containing five eggs. The 
nest, like those of all marsh birds that I have 
examined, were built of the leaves and stems 
of the reeds and cattails, and were constructed 
among the dead growth of last year's cattails, in 
a portion of the marsh that was quite dry at 
the time. On the other hand, the least bittern 
built a platform of green cattail leaves, fastened 
to the stems of the growing cattails at a height 
of some three feet above the water, and in a 
portion of the marsh where the water was 
up to the arm-pits. The American bittern in 
the first week of June had eggs nearly hatched, 
while the least bittern, at the last of this week 
was just finishing laying. The eggs of the latter 
bird are much like those of other members of 
the heron order, pale blue, but those of the 
larger American bittern are a wide departure 
from the type, being a beautiful rich chocolate 
brown. Both birds lay from three to five eggs, 
clutches of the least bittern being usually four, 
while the American more often lays only three. 
Both bitterns have the habit of standing motion¬ 
less among the dead cattails stalks, beak pointed 
. straight up, body and neck very erect, and the 
whole bird blending wonderfully with its sur¬ 
roundings. The larger bird also has a habit of 
immersing the bill in water and producing a 
booming, “pumping" sound heard for a long 
distance, and from which the local name has 
been derived of “thunder pump.” 
To pitch camp in the very midst of the homes 
of the marsh birds is a novel experience, and a 
most delightful one to .the enthusiast. One must 
needs be an enthusiast to face the discomforts 
of such a situation, not the least of which is 
furnished by the constant and persistent atten¬ 
tions of the innumerable mosquitoes. We were 
equal to the occasion, however, when, on the 
above mentioned occasion we camped at the 
Cayuga marshes, and pitched our tent on a nar¬ 
row strip of solid land surrounded by an ex¬ 
tensive marsh. How well we selected may be 
judged by the fact that three or four rods back 
of <the tent was one of the American bittern 
homes-, while across the open water in front of 
the tent, beginning not twenty feet from us, was 
breeding colony of Virginia rails. 
When evening drew on, and we had prepared 
our beds of dry reeds, and had smoked the mos¬ 
quitoes from the tent and fastened it up, the 
chorus of frog voices from countless throats 
was in full swing all about 11s, varied from time 
to time by the weird cry of the g;reen heron, the 
diabolical “laugh” of the gallinule, and the 
vesper notes of other birds. This was the lulla¬ 
by that wafted us to dreamland, and I doubt if 
royal couch and king’s orchestra ever combined 
to give honored recipient such deep content and 
restful slumber. 
He who has dwelt among the homes of the 
marsh birds, has observed their household af¬ 
fairs, and has almost conversed with them, when 
he comes to try to relate his experiences, finds 
himself weakly wishing that he had the power 
to give the hearer the actual experience. Un¬ 
less the marsh birds shall change their habits 
to suit changing environment, the time must 
come when one must go far afield to find them 
“at home.” Those who have viewed the city 
remnant of the former rich avifauna of the 
NEST AND EGGS OF MARSH WREN. 
marshes, now in a part of Long Island City, can 
feel well repaid for the trouble. 
The Library of Natural History. 
The Library of Natural History is astonish¬ 
ing for the wealth of illustration which it dis¬ 
plays. This may be better understood when it 
is stated that, in the five large volumes which 
comprise the work, there are nearly 2,000 illus¬ 
trations. and of these a number are in colors. 
It is well called a portrait gallery of actual life, 
which shows pictures of wild animals and sav¬ 
age men. and these pictures consist entirely of 
reproductions of photographs. The personal 
equation of the artist does not at all come in 
play, but instead we have the fidelity to truth 
of the unchanging camera. 
Moreover, the Library of Natural History is 
brought down to date. Its cover contains a 
picture and some descriptive matter about that 
newest of mammals, okapi, discovered in the 
heart of Africa only a few years ago by Sir 
Harry Johnston, who. by the way, is named on 
the title page of the library as one of the con¬ 
tributors to the work. Among his coworkers 
are Ernest Ingersoll. R. Lydekker, J. W. 
Gregory, W. Saville-Kent and many others. 
The illustrations of the volume deserve high 
praise. The reading matter is interesting, in 
part because it differs so widely from most 
natural histories. The accounts of men, beasts, 
birds and reptiles deal chiefly with the lives and 
habits of the animals described, and say com¬ 
paratively little of their systematic relation. 
There is but little “science” in the volumes) and 
Latin names are conspicuous by their absence; 
but there is much about how the animals live 
and move and have their being. The work has 
a distinct place in the education of the land, for 
it contains a multitude of animal stories that 
cannot fail to interest young persons and to 
lead them to inquire more particularly about ani¬ 
mal life in nature. 
As an example of the style of the book, we 
may quote the following lines which deal with 
a famous chimpanzee known as Sallie, which 
lived for six years in the London Zoo, and about 
which Dr. G. J. Romanes said: 
“Her intelligence was conspicuously displayed 
by the remarkable degree in which she was able 
to understand the meaning of spoken language 
—a degree fully equal to that presented by an 
infant a few months before emerging from in¬ 
fancy, and therefore higher than that which is 
presented by any brute, so far at least as I have 
evidence to show. Having enlisted the co-opera¬ 
tion of the keepers, I requested them to ask the 
ape repeatedly for one straw, two straws, three 
