n the Reeds

Though haying was almost done on the uplands, over the wide, level,
treeless meadow-island the heavy grass stood still uncut, its rank
growth taking long to ripen. The warm wind that drew across it from time
to time in a vague, elusive rhythm was burdened with rich summer scents,
the mid-noon distillations from the vetch and clover and lily and
yellow-daisy blooms which thronged among the grass-heads, and from the
flaunting umbels of the wild parsnip which towered above them. Over this
radiant and pregnant luxuriance the air quivered softly, and hummed with
the murmur of foraging bees and flies, glad in the heat.

The island lay on the tranquil river like a splendid green enamel on
blue porcelain. Its level, at this season, lay several feet above that
of the water, and its shores, fantastically looped with little,
sweeping coves and jutting points, were fringed with deep rushes of
intense, glaucous green. Whenever the wind puffed lightly over them, the
tops of the rushes bowed gravely together in long ranks, and turned
silvery gray. Here and there above them fluttered a snipe, signalling
its hidden young, then winging off across the water to the next point,
with a clear, two-noted whistle.

On one of the little jutting points, where a log lay half-submerged in
trailing water-weeds, stood a tall blue heron balanced motionless on one
long, stilt-like leg. Its head, drawn flat back between the high
shoulders, came about ten inches above the tops of the sedge. Its long,
keen, javelin-like beak lay along its protruding breast, in readiness to
dart in any direction. Its round, gem-like eyes, hard as glass in their
glitter, took in not only the wide, blue-and-green empty landscape, but
equally every movement of the sedge-fringe and the weedy shallows
along-shore.

For some minutes the great bird was as still as a carven figure. Then,
for no apparent reason, the long neck uncoiled violently like a loosed
crossbow, and the javelin beak shot downward with a movement almost too
swift for the eye to follow. Deep into the weeds and water it
darted,--to return with a small, silvery chub securely transfixed. One
smart, sidelong blow of the wriggling fish upon the log ended its
struggles. Then the skilful fisher threw his prize up in the air, caught
it as it fell, swallowed it head foremost, and relapsed into his
watchful immobility.

This time he had not quite so long to wait. Again the coiled spring of
his neck w