The Sea-doves And The Great Blue Heron Beside The Sea

One hot August day Phyllis went to the seashore to live.

"Such fun," she cried, as the train drew up at the seaside station.

"Such fun as I shall have playing in the sand and wading in the water."

It was not half an hour before she was running along the beach beside

the cliffs. Her feet were bare, and she wriggled her toes in the sand

and splashed into the puddles of water.

sently she saw a number of little birds running along the beach and

flying over the water.

"How swiftly they fly, and how well they dive," she said. "How easily

they swim, and they sometimes settle on the waves and rest. I wish

they would come nearer!"

"I will tell you about them," said a solemn voice near by. Phyllis

stumbled in her surprise and splashed the water into her eyes. When

she could see again, a great blue heron was standing near.

"Oh!" cried Phyllis, a bit frightened. "It is strange that I did not

see you. Yes, do tell me about the little sea-bird--and about yourself


So the blue heron drew his head down between his shoulders, and,

standing on one leg, told Phyllis what he knew of the little sea-doves.

"That little bird with brown back and white breast loves the sea," said

the heron. "He is never tired of the blue waves.

"In stormy weather the little sea-dove is most happy, because it is

then that the waves are laden with small fish and crabs. During stormy

weather the little fisherman grows fat.

"Watch them as they fly. Do you see how they are constantly dipping

their bills into the water? That is their way of fishing.

"The sea-doves' nests are among the cliffs. In them they lay just two

bluish-white little eggs.

"Sometimes, when the winds are very strong, the sea-doves are blown far

inland. Sometimes they find their way back to the sea. But there are

other times when they do not return."

"And where is your own nest, O Great Blue Heron?" asked Phyllis, half

laughing at the queer, long-legged bird.

"It is over yonder on a rock," said the heron. "There are now four

dull blue-green eggs in the nest.

"Soon there will be four ugly, helpless birdlings, who will sit up and

cry for food. It will be at least three weeks after they are hatched

before they will try to wade out into these flat sea-marshes. I shall

have to let no fish escape me, if I do not wish the fledglings to


"You do not think your babies pretty?" asked Phyllis.

"No," said the heron, truthfully, "they are not even so good-looking as

other birds' babies. But that I do not mind, for will they not some

day be as beautiful as I myself?"

"Yes," said Phyllis, "I have seen your picture many a time. In

mother's room is a large screen and on it is your likeness embroidered

in silks. The long green grasses are growing about you in the picture.

One foot is drawn up and your head is drawn down between your shoulders

just as it now is."

"That is the way to rest," said the heron.

"What were you doing here?" Phyllis asked, wading a little closer to

the long-legged bird.

"I was fishing," said the great blue heron. "It is the one thing I

delight in. From morning till night--"

"My brother Jack--" began Phyllis, but the bird paid no attention.

"I sometimes stand here perfectly still for hours. I wait patiently

for the fish or the frogs to appear.

"Then I strike suddenly with my strong, sharp bill. I snap up the fish

or frog and give it a knock or two to kill it.

"Then I eat it. If it is a fish I swallow it, head first, so that the

scales shall not scratch my throat.

"But see, Phyllis, the sun has set, and I have not yet had my supper.

I really must leave you!"

Then the great blue heron rose slowly and silently and circled away

over the flat sea-marshes. Barefooted Phyllis scampered back to the

little seaside cottage, where a fish supper was awaiting her.