Chapter 34

ON THE SHORE

By the first of August, bird housekeeping was over at Orchard Farm. The Barn Swallow had guided her last brood through the hayloft window, without having it closed upon her as she had feared. The friendly Robins had left the Orchard and lawn, to moult in the quiet of the woods. The Thrashers, and Catbirds too, were quite silent and invisible; of all the voices that had made the last three months so musical, the Red-eyed Vireo and the Song Sparrow alone persisted in singing, aided by a few Wood Thrushes.

"Rap says that August is a poor month for birds about here," said Nat to his uncle; "do you think there will be more of them down at the shore?"

"That we cannot tell until we go there, but we are likely to meet some of the Wading and Swimming Birds who have nested in the far North, and are on their southward journey. If the weather is pleasant, they often pass by far out at sea; but if it is foggy or stormy, they may stop awhile to rest and feed."

"Do many of these birds nest near our beach?"

"A few, but the greater number breed further north. Olaf will show us Herons in the island woods, and where the Rails nest in the reeds, near the Marsh Wrens, a mile or two up the river. Some day when it is calm, we will sail over to Great Gull Island, where many water birds lay their eggs on the bare sand. There will be enough for you to see and do, I promise you."

The next day they all went to the shore. Mr. Wolf looked after them very sadly from the door of his kennel, where he was chained, and barked a gruff goodbye; but Quick informed them that he intended going also, took matters into his own hands, and started to run down the road ahead of the wagon.

After much arranging, talking, and laughing, two wagon-loads of people, rubber boots, fishing tackle, and other things, started toward the shore, a farm hand going with each team to drive the horses back.

"Miss Olive, honey!" called Mammy Bun as they were starting, "don' you let de chillen eat too many o' dem clams what has de long necks; dey is powerful full o' cramps." And Olive promised that she would be very careful.

When they reached the shore, they found everything ready for them. Olaf's little home, which contained four tiny rooms, was as clean and compact as a ship's cabin. There was a kitchen, one room for Olive and Dodo, one for the Doctor, and another for Rap's mother; while Olaf, Nat, and Rap were to sleep close by in a tent made of poles, canvas, and pine boughs. Several boats were drawn up on the beach, by a creel of nets and some lobster pots, while Olaf's sharpie was anchored in deep water a little way offshore.

It was late when the horses turned homeward after leaving their loads; it had been a beautiful afternoon, neither too warm nor too cool. "Oh!" exclaimed Dodo, "now that the horses have gone, the good time will begin; for we can't go back even if we want to."

The children amused themselves for some time in looking at their new quarters, and then in watching Olaf row out to light the beacon lamps. When it grew dusk they had supper, wondering at the strange stillness of the evening; for, though it was usually very quiet at the Farm, they had never before known the silence that falls with the twilight on a shore where the water does not rush and beat as on the ocean beaches, but simply laps lazily to and fro, like the swinging of a hammock.

Presently the stars began to give good-evening winks at the beacons--first one, then another and another, until the whole sky twinkled; while one evening star, the brightest of them all, hurried along the west as if it were trying to overtake the sun, and knew that it was fully half an hour behind the jolly god of day.

"See how the tide is coming in," said Rap, when they returned to the beach. "When Olaf went out, he had to push his boat ever so far, and now the water is almost up to the line of seaweeds and shells."

"I wonder what makes the water go in and out?" questioned Dodo, half to herself.

"I don't exactly know," said Rap; "but I think it is because the earth goes round every day, making the water tip from one side to the other and then back again."

"Then why doesn't it all tip off into the sky?" persisted Dodo.

"I guess--because--that is, I don't know," stammered Rap. "I must ask Uncle Roy to tell us, and why the earth down here on the shore stays sharp and gritty when it is wet; for when the earth up at the Farm is wet, it makes sticky mud," said Dodo.

"Yes," said Nat, "and why the stars are of such different sizes, and seem to stay quite still, except some that go along like that big bright one over there."

"Quok! Quok!" cried a strange voice from the marshes back of the beach. "Quok, quok, quok, quok!" answered other voices.

"What can that be?" said Nat; "it isn't a Whip-poor-will, or a Nighthawk--it must be one of the cannibal birds. Uncle Roy, what kind of birds are those calling away over in the marshes?" But the Doctor was not within hearing, and it was some time before they found him, sitting by the cabin door smoking his pet outdoor pipe, which was made of a corn-cob.

"Did you hear the Night Herons calling as you came up?" he asked.

"We heard a very queer squawky sound, and came to ask you what it was, for we couldn't guess," said Nat. "What is a Night Heron--a cousin of the Nighthawk, who lives near the water?"

"I don't think it's a water bird," said Rap, "because I have heard that same squawking up by the mill."

"But is not the mill close to the pond?" said the Doctor, smiling.

"Why, yes, to be sure--but I was thinking of salt water."

"That is a distinction that applies to few of our water birds; when we speak of the birds that wade, paddle, swim, and dive, we must remember that they may do so in lakes, rivers, bays, or the ocean, according to their individual habits. In fact, some members of a single family prefer fresh water, while their brothers are more fond of the salt sea. This is the case in the family of the Night Heron."

"Where does he belong?" asked Rap, "with the paddling birds or the swimming ones?"

"With the paddlers and waders."

"See, here comes the moon up out of the water and it makes a shiny path up to our feet and Olaf is rowing back right down it and the stars have stopped winking and are getting dim," said eager little Dodo, with an "and" wherever she ought to have stopped to breathe, as usual. "Hark! the Herons are squawking again--won't you tell us about them now, Uncle Roy?"

A LONG-NECKED FAMILY

"The long-necked, long-legged, long-billed Heron family, to which these squawkers belong, contains many marsh-loving birds. They are not exactly what we call shore birds, but live contentedly near any water, where they can wade and splash about pools and shallows for their food. For they eat meat, though they never kill birds, like the cannibals. Their taste is for frogs, lizards, snakes, snails, crabs, fish, and other small fry; they very seldom eat any warm-blooded animals. Herons are all rather large birds, the smallest of them being over a foot in length, while the largest stand fully four feet high."

"Quok! Quok!" came the cry again, this time just over the cabin. Looking up, the children saw a dark body flying toward the wood belt; something like a long beak stuck out from its breast in front, and its long legs were stretched out stiff behind, but these were the only details that they could distinguish.

"I thought Herons had long necks," said Nat; "but this one doesn't seem to have any neck at all."

"Ah, but when it flies it folds its long neck, and thus draws its head down between its shoulders, while some of the Stork and Crane cousins poke out their heads in flying."

"Are Storks and Cranes cousins of the Herons?" asked Dodo. "I know about Storks--they are in my fairy book. They live in the north country where little Tuk came from, and build their nests on roofs between chimneys, and stand a great deal on one leg in the water looking for frogs. Do Herons nest on roofs and stand on one leg, Uncle Roy?"

"They do not nest on roofs, but they often stand on one leg when watching for food, and when sleeping--in fact, they stand so much in this way that one leg is often stronger than the other, and they most certainly belong to the guild of Wise Watchers. The Black-crowned Night Heron who has just flown over is the most familiar member of his family hereabouts, and quite a sociable bird. He prefers to live the hotel life of a colony, instead of having a quiet home of his own, and so do almost all other members of the Heron family. These Night Herons flock back from warm countries in April, and by early May have built their rough nests of sticks in trees near the water, or over a marshy place. There is a colony of twenty or thirty nests on Marsh Island, Olaf tells me; in my boyhood days there used to be hundreds of them.

"In nesting-time a heronry, as such a colony is called, is a very noisy, dirty place; for they do not keep their homes neat and nice, like the tidy land birds. Mr. and Mrs. Night Heron call hoarsely enough to each other, but imagine three or four baby Herons crying from every nest--truly the parents can have but little rest, for day and night they must go frogging or fishing, to fill the stomachs of their red-eyed awkward children.

"When the nesting season is over, however, this Heron again becomes the night watchman of the marshes. The tinkling of the bell on the home-going cow is his breakfast bell, and sunset the signal for him to leave his roost. Then beware! little fishes and lizards--those red eyes are glowing for you! That long spear-shaped beak is ready to stab you to death! Froggy 'who would a-wooing go,' return quickly to your mother, without making any impertinent remarks about 'gammon and spinach' on the way, or something much more savage than the 'lily-while duck' will surely gobble you up! Stay in doors patiently, until sunrise sends the rough-clawed prowler back to his heronry again."

"May we go to see the Herons some day? It would be so funny to go to a bird hotel and find everybody asleep, like the beauty in the wood," said Dodo. "You shall certainly pay them a visit, but I doubt that you will find them as sound asleep as you imagine."

The very next morning Olaf piloted the party across the meadows to the wood that was made an island by a little creek that threaded in and out among the reeds.

"I know somebody whose feet are wet already!" said Nat, pointing to Olive, who was slipping about uncertainly.

"I know it was very foolish to come without my rubber boots, but they are so uncomfortable to wear in summer. Oh! please give me your hand--quick, father!" The Doctor caught her as she was sinking in what looked like a bit of good ground, but was really a bog tuft.

It took some time to work their way to the centre of the island. There the ground was drier in spots, between the little pools, and there were some high trees.

"Stop here," said Olaf cautiously, "and look well before."

They did so just as the crackling twigs startled some dusky shapes that flapped among the trees.

"The Herons!" exclaimed Rap, settling his crutch more firmly and preparing to watch closely.

As soon as their eyes became accustomed to the dim light, the party saw many large birds, some in the trees, some in the decaying underbrush, and others on the ground. Here and there among the trees were nests, looking like flat heaps of sticks. They were empty; but their sides, the trees, and the ground were all spattered and befouled with the chalky-white droppings of the careless colony. "Ugh!" shivered Dodo, who had a very keen nose, "what an ugly place to live in, and such a horrid smell! Please, uncle, don't these birds have dreadful headaches very often?"

"I think House People would have wretched headaches if they lived here--in fact, we must not stay very long; but it agrees with Herons, who are built to be the wardens of just such places."

"There are two kinds of Herons here," said Rap. "Some black and white, with a topknot, and some striped brown ones. Aren't the brown ones Bitterns? They look like one I saw in the miller's woods, and he called it a Bittern."

"The striped ones are the young birds, now wearing their first plumage. Bitterns prefer to live in freshwater meadows, or near ponds. They are solitary birds, keeping house in single pairs, and after nesting-time wander about entirely alone."

"Isn't it very hard to tell young Night Herons from Bitterns?" asked Nat.

"It would be easy for you to mistake them, but the habits of the two species are quite different. The Bittern nests on the ground, in a reedy bog, not in the woods, and may be seen flying in broad daylight, with his long legs trailing behind him. But in spite of this, he is a difficult bird to find; for if anything is 'remote, unfriendly, solitary, slow,' it is the American Bittern, who often stands motionless among the reeds for hours."

"That is just what the Bittern did that the miller and I saw," said Rap. "We were hunting for a calf--the miller's things are always straying away, because he never mends his fences--and this Bittern was among some very tall grasses and dry flags; for it was along in the fall, when things were turning brown. I don't know how I ever came to see him; but when I did, he looked so queer that he almost scared me, and I said to the miller, 'Whatever is that?'

"For a minute he couldn't see anything, and then he said, 'Pshaw! that's only a Bittern; but I do wish I had my gun.'

"'Why doesn't he move?' said I. 'Look at the way he holds his head straight up, like a stick. I'm going round behind him to see what his back looks like.'

"'He's a stupid thing, and thinks we don't see him,' said the miller. I walked round and round until I began to get dizzy, but that bird was all front, and all I could see was his striped breast and neck. Then I saw the miller was laughing.

"'That bird isn't as stupid as he looks,' said he. 'He turns around just as fast as you walk, so you won't have a chance to get behind him.' Then we heard the calf low, and we went away."

"That was a sight worth seeing, my boy," said the Doctor; "for it is one of the best proofs that birds understand the value of protection of color. The Bittern and the old reeds blended their colors together, and by stretching up its neck the bird adapted his shape as much as possible to the straight, stiff lines of the reeds, while by keeping his front parts toward you, the curves of his back were concealed. You might have passed his hiding-place a hundred times without seeing him. But come--let us leave this Heron hotel, and find a way to the lane road."

The open air seemed doubly sweet and fresh, after the fishy smell of the Heronry. Dodo stopped under the first shade tree, and begged for her tables.

The Black-crowned Night Heron

(The Night Watchman)

Length about two feet.

Upper parts glossy greenish black in front, but ashy-gray behind and on the neck, wings, and tail; the forehead white, and two slender white plumes sticking out six or eight inches behind the head.

Under parts whitish, including the long throat or front of the whole neck.

Bill black, with greenish bare skin between it and the red eyes; legs yellow.

Sexes alike, but young very different, being grayish-brown above with many white or buff spots, and white below with black streaks.

A Summer Citizen of North America, useful in keeping down frogs and small reptiles, but too untidy to be a pleasant neighbor.

A member of the guild of Wise Watchers.

The American Bittern

(The Stake-Driver Or Thunder-Pumper)

Length from twenty-three to thirty-four inches, which is a very unusual difference in birds of the same species. Upper parts all freckled with brown, black, and tan color of various shades, as if sun-burnt, with a velvety black patch on each side of the neck, and the longest wing-feathers plain blackish with brown tips; top of head plain brown.

Under parts tawny whitish or pale buff, every feather with a dark streak, and the middle line of feathers along the whole throat white with brown streaks.

Bill blackish and yellowish; legs greenish; claws brown; eyes yellow.

A Citizen of temperate North America, but a very shy and solitary bird, who will not be neighborly and is oftener heard than seen in the bogs where he likes to live alone. He makes a loud noise that sounds like chopping wood with an axe or driving a stake in the ground with a mallet; so he is called the Stake-driver by some people, while others name him Thunder-pumper and Bog-bull. His body is about as big as a Hen's, and he is sometimes known as Indian Hen, though his very long beak, neck, and legs are not at all like those of a Hen.

A member of the guild of Wise Watchers, who keeps a sharp lookout for the reptiles and little fishes he spears with his strong pointed bill, and places his nest on the ground; the eggs are drab-colored, not pale green like those of most members of the Heron family.

A BONNET MARTYR AND A BLUE GIANT

"You promised to tell us about four Herons--please, who are the other two?" asked Dodo, when she had finished writing these tables, and had buttoned her book into the pocket of the long gray linen apron which the Doctor had taught both Olive and herself to wear on those excursions, whether they hunted birds, flowers, or butterflies.

"Boys have pockets--how I wish I was a boy!" Dodo had said, after she had been at Orchard Farm a couple of days. "So do I," had echoed Olive; "there is always something to carry, and everything seems either to fall out of girls' pockets, or to be smashed flat."

"If you will only promise not to turn into boys, I will furnish you with pockets," the Doctor had said, and he had kept his word as usual.

"Did I say four Herons?" he now asked. "Yes, to be sure; there are two more that will interest you--the Snowy Egret or Bonnet Martyr, and the Great Blue Heron or Blue Giant."

"Bonnet Martyr? What a strange name for a bird! Why do you call him that? Do they live about here?" asked Nat.

"They do not live so far north as this, though they sometimes stray through the Middle and Northern States. But in the Southern States, and Florida in particular, they used to live in vast colonies. Now they are being surely and quickly put out of the world by the cruelty and thoughtlessness of House People--the particular kind of House People who wear women's hats and bonnets.

"Once these Egrets covered the southern lowlands like drifting snow--for they are beautifully white. In the nesting season, when many birds are allowed some special attraction in the way of plumage, bunches of long, slender, graceful plumes grow on their backs between the shoulders and curl up over the tail.

"In an evil moment some woman, imitating the savages, used a bunch of these feathers to make a tuft upon her headgear. From that day the spotless bird was doomed to martyrdom. Egrets, as the plumes are called like the birds themselves, became a fashionable trimming for bonnets and have continued so to this day, in spite of law and argument; for many women seem to be savages still, notwithstanding their fine clothes and other signs of civilization.

"These Herons only wear their beautiful plumes in the nesting season, when it is the height of cruelty to kill birds of any kind, and this is what happens: When the nests, which are built of sticks in bushes and trees above the lagoons, are filled with young, as yet too feeble to take care of themselves, and the beautiful parents are busy flying to and fro, attending to the wants of their helpless nestlings, the plume-hunters glide among them noiselessly, threading the watercourses in an Indian dug-out or canoe, and when once within the peaceful colony, show themselves with bold brutality. For well they know that the devoted parents will suffer death rather than leave their young in such danger.

"Shot upon shot rings out in repeated volleys, each followed in turn by the piteous cries of wounded birds, till the ground is strewn with hundreds of the dead and dying. Then the cruel hunters tear off the plume-tuft from the back of each victim, as the savage does a human scalp, and move on in search of another heronry, to repeat this inhuman slaughter of the innocents.

"But this is not all--what becomes of the young birds? They must either perish slowly of hunger, or be swallowed by the snakes that infest such places and are attracted to the nests by the clamoring of the starving orphans. Now do you wonder that I call this beautiful Snowy Egret the Bonnet Martyr?"

"I never, never will wear any kind of bird's feathers again," said Dodo; "and when I go back to school I am going to make a guild for people who will promise not to either. Are Ostriches killed for their feathers, Uncle Roy? Because my best winter hat has a curly row all round the crown."

"No. Ostrich plumes are a perfectly harmless decoration, for the bird earns his own and his master's living by growing them, without losing his life. They are the only kind of feathers that should ever be worn for ornament."

"Has the Great Blue Heron pretty feathers like a Bluebird?" asked Nat, who felt sorry for the fate of the Egrets, but did not like to show it and so tried to turn the subject.

"He is of a slate-gray color, which you might not think blue at all, and he too wears fine plumes, on his head, breast, and back. He is the largest bird of our hundred, being quite as tall as you are, Miss Dodo. If you ever see one of these birds standing on the edge of the mill pond, you will never forget it; for it does not seem like an American bird, but rather like a visitor from strange lands. You may imagine it to be an Egyptian princess in disguise, waiting for a barge to come down the river, rowed by black slaves and conveying a prince all glittering with jewels, who is bringing a ring cut with mystic letters to break the spell--as such things are managed in fairy tales.

"This Blue Heron, you will find, has no sweeter voice than his night-flying cousin, and, like the latter, nests in colonies in the trees; but afterward he travels about alone, as the Bittern does."

The Snowy Egret

(The Bonnet Martyr.)

Length about two feet.

Pure white all over, with a bunch of many long slender plumes growing between the shoulders, and shorter ones on the head and neck, in the nesting season. Feet and legs black. Toes yellow. Bill black and yellow.

A Citizen of temperate and tropical America.

A member of the guild of Wise Watchers, whose food and habits are the same as those of most other Herons, and who, if he does us no special good service, is perfectly innocent, and should never be butchered to make a woman's Easter holiday bonnet.

He has a larger brother called the American White Egret, as pure white as himself, but three feet or more instead of only two feet long, with the plumes hanging down over his tail instead of curled up, and none growing on his head.

The Great Blue Heron

(Or Blue Giant)

Length about four feet.

Plumage mostly slate-gray or bluish-ash, but black and white on the head and each side of the breast, and chestnut on the bend of the wing. A crest on the back of the head, a fringe of long feathers at the root of the neck in front, and another on the back in the breeding season. Feathers on upper part of the legs reddish-brown, the bare scaly part black; bill yellow and greenish, with black on top; bare skin between it and the eyes blue.

A Citizen of North America.

A member of the guild of Wise Watchers who is wise enough to mind his own business and do nobody any harm, though he is not inclined to be sociable with House People. "I think we had best be going toward the house," said Olaf, glancing at the sky; "there's thunder-heads racing up." So the children, always ready for something new, started eagerly, and bewildered Olaf with questions about clouds and weather signs all the way home.