"Hush!" ejaculated Ben, clapping his hand to his ear (as his custom was), to catch the sound. "Hear that? Some sort of a fracas."
And cautiously pushing through the dense copse, a very singular and comical spectacle met our eyes. For out some two or three rods from the muddy, grassy shore stood a tall, a very tall bird,--somewhere from four to five feet, I judged,--with long, thin, black legs, and an awkward body, slovenly clad in dull gray-blue plumage. The neck was as long as the legs, and the head small, and nearly bare, with a long, yellowish bill. Standing knee deep in the muddied water, it was, on the whole, about the most ungainly-looking fowl you can well imagine; while on a half-buried tree trunk, running out towards it into the water, crouched a wiry, black creature, of about average dog size, wriggling a long, restless tail, and apparently in the very act of springing at the long-legged biped in the water. Just now they were eying each other very intently; but from the splashed and bedraggled appearance of both, it was evident there had been recent hostilities, which, judging from the attitude of the combatants, were about to be renewed.
"Show!" exclaimed Ben, peering over my shoulder from behind. "An old _hairn_--ain't it? Regular old _pokey_. Thought I'd heered that _quock_ before. And that creatur'? Let's see. Odd-looking chap. Wish he'd turn his head this way. Fisher--ain't it? Looks like one. Should judge that's a fisher-cat. What in the world got them at loggerheads, I wonder?"
By "hairn" Ben meant _heron_, the great blue heron of American waters--_Ardea Herodias_ of the naturalists. And fisher, or fisher-cat, is the common name among hunters for Pennant's marten, or the _Mustela canadensis_, a very fierce carnivorous animal, of the weasel family, growing from three to four feet in length, called also "the black cat."
The fisher had doubtless been the assailant, though both had now that intent, tired-down air which marks a long fray. He had probably crept up from behind, while old long-shanks was quietly frogging along the shore.
But he had found his intended victim a game one. The heron had a character to sustain; and although he might easily have flown away, or even waded farther out, yet he seemed to scorn to do either.