which overhung Canonmills Loch. Although the injured wing had completely healed, yet it hung a little, and the bird seemed sensible that he could not effectually fly off, or provide for himself. He therefore remained wholly at large, running with expanded wings to Peggy when he expected food. The food consisted of such fish as could be procured, haddocks, flounders, herring cut in pieces; and sometimes, in default of fish, of bits of raw bullock's liver. He often followed me through the garden, in expectation of being treated to a bit of soft cheese, of which he was very fond, and which I generally carried in the pocket of my morning coat for the benefit of the other pets. He accepted a bit of loaf bread, if he found that I had nothing else to give him; and when he experienced difficulty in swallowing the bread, I have repeatedly admired the sagacity and gravity with which he marched to the pond, and dipped the morsel in the water till it was sufficiently softened. I once saw him kill a rat. The rat was busy stealing a portion of the food laid down for the Heron, when he raised his head and wings, and inflicted a single blow of his bill on the head of the depredator, who gave a shiver, and died.

During the

first season the Heron picked out every perch which I had in my small pond; not a frog nor toad were left in the garden, nor have I seen one ever since; and he extirpated a breed of the large edible snail (Helix Pomatia) which the late Dr. Leach had sent me from Somersetshire, and which had multiplied in the crevices of a rock-work. In the volume of Audubon above referred to, you will find an account of a Great Blackbacked Gull which was in the habit of annually going off in the breeding season, and returning to Canon

1

CHAP. VI.]

ATTEMPTS TO BREED.

323

mills for the rest of the year. [That distinguished Ornithologist repeatedly visited the Gull, and also the Heron here spoken of.] On one occasion I had the opportunity of remarking that, when the Gull and the Heron first met in my garden, after the absence of the former for some months, they evinced no shyness, but on the contrary rather indicated by their motions that they mutually recognised each other.

66

Early in the spring of 1828, the late Mr. Allan, of Lauriston Castle, sent me a female Heron, which had been slightly hurt, and blown into his grounds at the sea-side during a violent gale, and caught by his gardener. It was tied by the leg; but I immediately removed the ligature, shortened the quill-feathers of one wing, and placed her at large near the other bird. After a few cautious approaches, they soon associated, and the new comer showed no inclination to escape. Somewhat to my surprise I observed that they paired in the following season. They formed a very rude nest on the top of my garden wall, the base of which was, at that time, washed by Canonmills Loch (now drained by a railway company). The hen laid either three or four eggs, I am not sure which. By some strong wind or other accident the nest and eggs were swept into the loch. The hen then laid three other eggs, in a shrubbery border, in a rough nest of sticks which they had collected. It was very near a door which opened from the garden into the loch, and was placed close by the box edging of the walk. When the gardener was drawing water from the lock, the hen never moved; but when strangers happened to approach incautiously, she suddenly flitted off the eggs, and in this way two of the eggs were broken. We then put

in a couple of Bantam eggs to keep up the appearance. The hen continued to sit, being occasionally relieved by the cock when feeding. Unfortunately she had one day waded (or swum, for to some distance the water was too deep for wading) to the exposed margin of the loch, near the high road, and was there killed by some boys; and my expectations of breeding a Heron were thus frustrated. The cock continued to sit till the afternoon of the next day, when he seemed to tire of the duties of incubation, and finally abandoned the nest. The solitary bird lived for a number of years, going perfectly at large, except during severe snowstorms, when he readily submitted to confinement in an outhouse. Having crossed the loch in 1838, he unluckily fell in with some lads unacquainted with his habits, and shared the fate of his mate.”

Its temper.-Voice.-Nesting habits and haunts.-The Marram banks.-The district which they skirt.-The Bittern: its home.-Money value.-Mr. Jecks's Bittern.-Its manners in captivity.

THE Bittern is a remarkable bird. He differs much from the tameable Herons. The sportsman reckons

him a first-rate addition to the game-bag; the peasant listens to him by night as to some unearthly creature ; and there is no little superstitious consideration attached to his history. Those who believe in the transmigration of souls-and some people will not eat crocodile through unwillingness to digest a slice of their own grandfather-regard the Bittern as having owed the spark of life to an idle servant, named Ocnos, who was punished for his laziness by this metamorphosis. Ocnos continues to be of but little better domestic use or profit in his second than in his first character, except when artistically roasted, or skilfully mounted in a glass case. The Bittern is as provoking to his master's forbearance as was Ocnos; nay worse, he is even dangerous. Although Aldrovandi does say, "Sed et cicurari facilè puto, ut cæteras quoque Ardeas," that he may be easily tamed, like the rest of the Herons,-it will be better that the point of his bill should never be permitted to come within a yard of one's face, especially when he is out of temper, or reproached with the indolence of his good-for-nothing prototype. We will not say a

word against the other long-legged gentlemen, but doubt whether the learned physician of Bologna ever tried his powers of fascination upon this individual. Some nations call him "the Bull," from his roaring 66 an it were a sucking dove," and certain etymologists derive his English name from his imitating the boatum taurorum, or bull roaring. The old Polish title "Bunck is tolerably expressive. Sir Thomas Browne, who not only was well acquainted with the haunts of the bird, but kept one in captivity, says, "the Bittern in his common note, which he useth out of the time of coupling and upon the wing, so well resembleth the croaking of a raven, that I have been deceived by it."