And where, to come back to our heron, is the fisher now? A minute ago it
seemed as if it would never move: a statue in feathers set up there
among the forget-me-nots for the stream-folk to worship. But while your
eye has been following that fat perch loitering by the side of its
shadow, as if they were company for each other, in that little clear
patch of water by the bank which a shaft of sunlight pierces to the
pebbled floor, the heron, with half a dozen stately, noiseless steps has
changed its ground, and passing behind that thick spray of willow that
droops "aslant the stream," is out of sight. Come away, yourself, as
quietly as you can: the poor heron is not often left in peace by those
who see it. Be, then, one of the few who treat the noble bird with
courtesy.
It is not given to many to see a large heronry at breeding time, but
should the opportunity offer, it is well worth your while. The size of
the birds alone makes them interesting, and the spectacle of so many
flying to and fro at once and the grotesque nestlings flopping about on
their nests or standing grimly but with uncertain foothold at the edges,
their half-humorous, half-wicked looks and gestures, will keep your
glasses to your eyes as long as friends will wait for you. The noises
that proceed from old and young alike are both solemn and comical,
disconcerted fragments of croaks and squeaks, mingled with such
discordant scraps of sound as a child trying to blow a coach-horn might
produce. The young ones too keep falling off their perches, probably
because the instinct to try and stand on one leg is too strong for their
prudence and their thin knee-joints. They manage, as a rule, to scramble
and flap themselves on to other standpoints, but very often, failing to
make good their foothold, they fall to the ground, when the parents seem
to lose all further interest in them. To these accidents probably is
due the superstition alluded to by Marvel:
"The heron from the ash's top,
The eldest of its young lets drop,
As if it, stork-like, did pretend
That tribute to its lord to send."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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