When in the Floridas, during winter, I observed that the Blue Herons associated with other species, particularly the White Heron, _Ardea alba_, and the Louisiana Heron, _Ardea Ludoviciana_, all of which were in the habit of roosting together in the thick evergreen low bushes that cover the central parts of the islands along the coast. Their passage to and from their feeding places, is as regular as the rising and setting of the sun, and, unless frequently disturbed, they betake themselves every night to the same locality, and almost to the same spot. In the morning, they rise with one accord from the roosts on which they have been standing all night on one leg, the other drawn up among the feathers of the abdomen, their neck retracted, and their head and bill buried beneath their scapulars. On emerging from their retreats, they at once proceed to some distant place in search of food, and spend the day principally on the head waters of the rivers, and the fresh-water lakes of the interior, giving a decided preference to the soft mud banks, where small crabs or fiddlers are abundant, on which they feed greedily, when the inland ponds have been dried up, and consequently no longer supply them with such fishes as they are wont to feed upon. There, and at this season, Reader, you may see this graceful Heron, quietly and in silence walking along the margins of the water, with an elegance and grace which can never fail to please you. Each regularly-timed step is lightly measured, while the keen eye of the bird seeks for and watches the equally cautious movements of the objects towards which it advances with all imaginable care. When at a proper distance, it darts forth its bill with astonishing celerity, to pierce and secure its prey; and this it does with so much precision, that, while watching some at a distance with a glass, I rarely observed an instance of failure. If fish is plentiful, on the shallows near the shore, when it has caught one, it immediately swallows it, and runs briskly through the water, striking here and there, and thus capturing several in succession. Two or three dashes of this sort, afford sufficient nourishment for several hours, and when the bird has obtained enough it retires to some quiet place, and remains there in an attitude of repose until its hunger returns. During this period of rest, however, it is as watchful as ever, and on hearing the least noise, or perceiving the slightest appearance of danger, spreads its wings, and flies off to some other place, sometimes to a very distant one. About an hour before sunset, they are again seen anxiously searching for food. When at length satisfied, they rise simultaneously from all parts of the marsh, or shore, arrange themselves into loose bodies, and ascending to the height of fifty or sixty yards in the air, fly in a straight course towards their roosting place. I saw very few of these birds during the winter, on or near the river St John in