THE COMMON HERON. (Ardea cinerea.)
The habits of the Heron are peculiar. Perched on a stone, or the stump of a tree, by the solitary current of a brook, his neck and long beak half-buried between his shoulders, he will wait the whole day long, patient and unmoved, for the passing of a small fish, or the hopping of a frog; but his appetite is insatiable.
This bird is about four feet long from the tip of the bill to the end of the claws; to the end of the tail about thirty-eight inches; its breadth, when the wings are extended, is about five feet. The male is distinguished by a crest or tuft of black feathers hanging from the hinder part of his head, which in chivalrous times was of great value, and held as a peculiar mark of distinction when worn above the plume of ostrich feathers.
Virgil places the Heron among the birds that are affected by and foretell the approaching storm:
“When watchful Herons leave their watery stand,
And mounting upward with erected flight,
Gain on the skies, and soar above the sight.”
Dryden.
The Heron, though living chiefly in the vicinity of marshes and lakes, forms its nest on the tops of the loftiest trees. It resembles the rook in its habits: a great number of Herons living together in what is called a Heronry, as rooks do in a rookery. The female lays four large eggs, of a pale green colour; the natural term of this bird’s life is said to exceed sixty years.
In England, Herons were formerly ranked among the royal game, and protected as such by the laws; and when falconry was in fashion, the pursuit of the Heron was a favourite amusement.
“—— —— Now, like the wearied stag,
That stands at bay, the Hern provokes their rage;
Close by his languid wing in downy plumes
Covers his fatal beak, and cautious hides
The well-dissembled fraud. The falcon darts
Like lightning from above, and in her breast
Receives the latent death: down plumb she falls,
Bounding from earth, and with her trickling gore
Defiles her gaudy plumage. See, alas!
The falconer in despair, his favourite bird
Dead at his feet: as of his dearest friend,
He weeps her fate; he meditates revenge,
He storms, he foams, he gives a loose to rage;
Nor wants he long the means; the Hern fatigued,
Borne down by numbers, yields, and prone on earth
He drops; his cruel foes wheeling around
Insult at will.” Somerville.