Bible animals

by J. G. Wood

About Fermanagh, in Ireland, the Bittern is called Bog-bluiter, i.e. Bog-bleater, just as the snipe is termed the Heather-bluiter.

Like most of the long-legged wading birds, the Bittern is able to change its shape, and apparently to alter its size, in an astonishing manner. When it is walking over the ground, with head erect and eye glanced vigilantly at surrounding objects, it looks a large, bold, vigorous, and active bird. Next minute it will sink its head in its shoulders, so that the long beak seems to project from them, and the neck totally disappears, the feathers enveloping each other as perfectly and smoothly as if it never had had a neck. In this attitude it will stand for an hour at a time on one leg, with the other drawn close to its body, looking as dull, inert, and sluggish a bird as can well be imagined, and reduced apparently to one half of its former size. The Bittern is represented in one of its extraordinary attitudes on the plate which illustrates the cormorant.

THE CORMORANT.

"But the cormorant and the bittern shall possess it."-Isa. xxxiv. 11.

The nest of the Bittern is placed on the ground, and near the water, though the bird always takes care to build it on an elevated spot which will not be flooded if the water should rise by reason of a severe rain. There is, however, but little reason for the Bittern to fear a flood, as at the time of year which is chosen, for nest-building the floods are generally out, and the water higher than is likely to be the case for the rest of the year. The materials of the nest are found in marshes, and consist of leaves, reeds, and rushes.

It will be seen from the foregoing account, that if the word Kippod be translated as "Bittern," the imagery connected with it holds good, and that no more powerful figure could be imagined for the desolation of Babylon than the prophecy, "I will make it a possession for the bittern, and pools of water" (Isa. xiv. 23).

Though once plentiful in England, the Bittern is now very scarce, and there are few who have seen it in its native haunts. Formerly, when swamps and marshes abounded, the Bittern abounded in proportion, but drainage and cultivation and railways have fairly driven the Bittern out of the country, and in a few years it will be as completely extinct in England as the bustard or the eagle. Even the great marshes of Essex are being reclaimed and rendered unfit for the occupation of the bird; and, from the upper part of the house where this account is written, I can see with the aid of the telescope cornfields, and pasture-lands, and barns, and ricks, and roads, diversifying the wide expanses which were once covered with brackish water at every flow of the tide, and at the ebb only left as quagmires through which the foot of man could not pass, and on which grew the rough and scanty herbage that flourishes under conditions that would kill almost any other vegetation.

No longer can the Bittern find a home there. Deep ditches intersect each other at short intervals, into which the moisture of the really rich soil is drained, and the water that once stood in stagnant pools which the Bittern loved is conducted into them, and discharged into the river at the ebb tide. By the abstraction of the moisture, the whole country has been lowered more than a foot, and, together with the stagnant pools, the Bittern has vanished never more to return. And here it may be mentioned that, although the Bittern inhabits none but desolate places, it only selects those which contain capabilities of cultivation. So, if the boom of the Bittern be heard, it may be accepted as deciding two things—firstly, that the ground is utterly deserted by man, and uncultivated; and secondly, that it ought to be occupied by him, and brought into cultivation.

At the present day, the Bittern is very plentiful in the swampy grounds which edge the Tigris, just as it used to be in the marshes which border the Thames. Should the time come when London will have passed away as completely as the great cities of old, and the banks of the Thames lie as desolate as those of the Tigris, the Bittern will reassume its sway, and its deep booming note will again be heard through the stillness of night.