While we waited in our boats at a distance of fifteen feet, and with cameras erected on tripods at a third of the distance, she came walking through the reeds uttering occasionally an explosive _quoh!_ After circling about us several times she climbed to her nest, and at once proceeded to investigate the condition of its contents. Soon she gave evidence of the possession of both a philosophic and economic disposition, not to mention other housewifely qualities, notably cleanliness. Philosophy she exhibited by making the best of things as she found them; economy by carefully eating^{36} the two broken eggs, which a more thoughtless bird would have deserted or quickly discarded; and cleanliness by carefully dropping over the edge of the nest the shells remaining from her peculiar feast, and following them by bits of nest lining which had been soiled by portions of the egg. This task accomplished to her satisfaction, she gave further evidence of the possession of a well-ordered mind by descending to the water, washing her bill, drinking, and then returning to her remaining three eggs, on which she settled herself^{37} as complacently as though she had met with no loss, and there we left her in well-deserved privacy. TWO HERONS In this age of death and destruction to all living creatures, which, because of their size or edible qualities, the so-called sportsman is proud to exhibit as evidence of his skill afield, it is remarkable that there should exist within twenty odd miles of New York’s City Hall a colony of Herons which would do credit to the most remote swamp of Florida. Three factors have combined to render this rookery possible: first, its isolation; second, the habits of its occupants; and third, the protection which is afforded it by the owner of the land on which it is situated. Of these, the first is by far the most important, and I may be pardoned, therefore, if I do not betray the birds’ secret; for, much as I desire to encourage American industries, I must on this occasion withhold information of undoubted value to the feather trade. The birds’ habits contribute toward their preservation, because they are largely nocturnal, “Night” being the specific name applied by the text-books to this particular kind of Heron; but to those who know him in nature, he is generally spoken of as “Quawk,” this being an excellent rendering of his common call. The Night Heron or Quawk belongs among the birds for whom the setting sun marks the beginning of a new day—a fact which protects him from man and permits his existence in numbers where others of his family are rarely seen. Doubtless many of the residents of Heronville know their feathered neighbors only as a voice from the night, which comes to them when the birds, in passing over, utter their loud and startling call.