THE GREAT HERON. 
113 
plunge to the' middle in ponds made by the uprooting of 
large trees, which the green moss concealed from observa- 
tion. In calm weather, the silence of death reigns in these 
dreary regions ; a few interrupted rays of light shoot across 
the gloom ; and unless for the occasional hollow screams 
of the Herons, and the melancholy chirping of one or two 
species of small birds, all is silence, solitude, and desolation. 
When a breeze rises, at first it sighs mournfully through 
the tops ; but as the gale increases, the tall mast-like cedars 
wave like fishing-poles, and rubbing against each other, 
produce a variety of singular noises, that, with the help of 
a little imagination, resemble shrieks, groans, growling of 
bears, wolves, and such like comfortable music. 
On the tops of the tallest of these cedars the Herons 
construct their nests, ten or fifteen pair sometimes occupy- 
ing a particular part of the swamp. The nests are large, 
formed of sticks, and lined with smaller twigs ; each occupies 
the top of a single tree. The eggs are generally four, of an 
oblong, pointed form, larger than those of a hen, and of a 
light greenish blue, without any spots. The young are 
produced about the middle of May, and remain on the trees 
until they are full as heavy as the old ones, being extremely 
fat, before they are able to fly. They breed but once in the 
season. If disturbed in their breeding-place, the old birds 
fly occasionally over the spot, sometimes honking like a 
goose, sometimes uttering a coarse, hollow, grunting noise, 
like that of a hog, but much louder. 
