This species is more generally known than any of our Herons, it being very extensively dispersed in spring, summer, and early autumn. It ranges along our many rivers to great distances from the sea, being common on the Missouri and its branches, from which it spreads to all such localities as are favourable to its habits. To the north of the United States, however, it is very seldom seen, it being of rare occurrence even in Nova Scotia. At the approach of winter it retires to the Florida and Lower Louisiana, where individuals, however, reside all the year, and many remove southward beyond the limits of our country. I have observed their return in early spring, when arriving in flocks of from twenty to fifty individuals. They would plunge downwards from their elevated line of march, cutting various zigzags, until they would all simultaneously alight on the tops of the trees or bushes of some swampy place, or on the borders of miry ponds. These halts took place pretty regularly about an hour after sun-rise. The day was occupied by them, as well as by some other species, especially the Blue, the Yellow-crowned, and Night Herons, all of which at this period travelled eastward, in resting, cleansing their bodies, and searching for food. When the sun approached the western horizon, they would at once ascend in the air, arrange their lines, and commence their flight, which, I have no doubt, continued all night. You may therefore, good Reader, conclude that Herons are not only diurnal habits when feeding, but also able to travel at night when the powerful impulse of migration urges them from one portion of the country to another. But although on their northward journey, the Green Herons travel in flocks, it is a curious fact, that, unlike our smaller Waders, Ducks, Geese, and Cranes, they usually return southward at the approach of winter, singly or in very small flocks. Stagnant pools or bayous, and the margins of the most limpid streams, are alike resorted to by this species for the purpose of procuring food. It is little alarmed by the presence of man, and you may often see it close to houses, on the mill-dams, or even raising its brood on the trees of gardens. This is often the case in the suburbs of Charleston in South Carolina, where I have seen several nests on the same live oak in the grounds of the Honourable Joel Poinset, as well as in those of other cities of the Southern States. The gentleness, or as many would say, the stupidity of this bird is truly remarkable, for it will at times allow you to approach within a few paces, looking as unconcernedly upon you as the House Sparrow is wont to do in the streets of London.