Qua Birds begin to retire from this part of Massachusetts, towards their
southern winter quarters, although a few of the young birds still linger
occasionally to the 29th or 30th of that month." This last observation
is a farther evidence of the reluctance which the young of this species feel
to go as far south during winter as the old birds.
The nest of the Night Heron is large, flattish, and formed of sticks
placed in different directions, sometimes to the height of three or four
inches. At times it is arranged with so little care, that the young upset
it before they are able to fly. Many of the nests are annually repaired,
and these birds, when they have once found an agreeable settlement, return
regularly to it, until some calamity forces them to abandon it. The
full number of the eggs is four, and they measure at an average two inches
and one-sixteenth by an inch and a half. They are thin-shelled, and of
a plain light sea-green colour. In about three weeks after the young are
hatched, most of them leave the nest, and crawl about the branches, to
which they cling firmly, ascending to the tops of the bushes or trees, and
there awaiting the return of their parents with food. If you approach
them at such times, the greatest consternation ensues both among the
young and the old birds; the loud and incessant croaking which both
have until then kept up, suddenly ceases ; the parent birds rise in the air,
sail around and above you, some alighting on the neighbouring trees;
while the young scramble off in all directions to avoid being taken. So
great at times is their terror, that they throw themselves into the water,
and swim off with considerable rapidity, until they reach the shore, when
they run and hide in every convenient place. Retire for half an hour,
and you will be sure to hear the old and the young calling to each other;
the noise gradually increases, and in a short time is as loud as ever. The
stench emitted by the excrements with which the abandoned nests, the
branches and leaves of the trees and bushes, and the ground, are covered,
the dead young, the rotten and broken eggs, together with putrid
fish and other matters, renders a visit to these places far from pleasant.
Crows, Hawks and Vultures torment the birds by day, while Racoons
and other animals destroy them by night. The young are quite as good
for eating as those of the Common Pigeon, being tender, juicy, and fat,
with very little of the fishy taste of many birds which, like them, feed on
fishes and reptiles. At this period few if any of the old birds have the
long feathers of the hind head, and these are not reproduced before the
latter part of the following winter, when they seem to attain then- extreme
length in a few weeks.
The flight of the Night Heron is steady, rather slow/and often greatly
protracted. They propel themselves by regular flappings of the wings,
and, like the true Herons, draw in their head on the shoulders, while
their legs stretch out behind, and with the tail form a kind of rudder.
When alarmed they at times rise high in the air, and sail about for a
while. They sail in the same manner before alighting on their feeding
grounds, which they rarely do without having previously attended to
their security by alighting on the neighbouring trees and looking about
them. Their migrations are performed under night, when their passage
is indicated by their loud hoarse notes resembling the syllable qua, uttered
at pretty regular intervals. On these occasions they appear to fly faster
than usual.
On the ground, this bird exhibits none of the grace observed in all
the true Herons ; it walks in a stooping posture, the neck much retracted,
until it sees its prey, when, with a sudden movement, it stretches it out
and secures its food. It is never seen standing motionless, waiting for its
prey, like the true Herons, but is constantly moving about in search or
it. Its feeding places are the sides of ditches, meadows, the shady banks
of creeks, bayous, and ponds or rivers, as well as the extensive salt-marshes
and mud-bars left exposed at low water; and I have observed it to alight
in the ponds in the suburbs of Charleston towards evening, and feed there.
In all such situations, excepting the last, this bird may often be seen by
day, but more especially in the evening or morning twilight, wading up
to its ankles, or, as we commonly say, its knee-joints. Its food consists of
fishes, shrimps, tadpoles, frogs, water-lizards, and leeches, small Crustacea
of all kinds, water insects, moths, and even mice, which seem not less welcome
to it than its more ordinary articles of food. When satisfied,
it retires to some high tree on the banks of a stream or in the interior of
a swamp, and there it stands, usually on one leg, for hours at a time, apparently
dosing, though seldom sound asleep.
When wounded, this bird first tries to make its escape by hiding
among the grass or bushes, squatting the moment it finds what it deems
a secure place; but if no chance of a safe retreat occurs, it raises its
crest, ruffles its feathers, and, opening its bill, prepares to defend itself.
It can bite pretty severely, but the injury inflicted by its bill is not to
be compared with that produced by its claws, which on such occasions