I'm rolling slowly along in the refuge and I hear "glug, glug, glug . . . glug, glug . . . glug, glug, glug. Sounds like somebody dumping bad whisky from an old jug (not that I'd really know). So I scour the pond and look deep into the grass, my eyes stop at a brief rustle and here is what I find.

Oh, heck. He's up to his eyes in grass, then he moves a bit trying to get that best spot to strut his stuff. Glug, glug, glug.

I'm thinking this is a pretty good spot, but I guess he doesn't think so. He moves again. I lose him. I find him. Dang the light is now at the wrong angle. Glug, glug, glug he continues. I move my car, nope not a good spot, still to much grass. He watches me. Glug, glug, glug. I backup my car hoping for better lighting and a better view. Have the view but not the best lighting. glug, glug, glug . . . Mr American Bittern is on his stage and he can have the lighting any way he wants it. Glug, glug, glug . . . glug, glug on into the late afternoon as the sun nears the horizon.



Time for me to go. Best wishes to you, handsome Bittern. I hope you find love in the marshes.

Oh, heck. He's up to his eyes in grass, then he moves a bit trying to get that best spot to strut his stuff. Glug, glug, glug.

I'm thinking this is a pretty good spot, but I guess he doesn't think so. He moves again. I lose him. I find him. Dang the light is now at the wrong angle. Glug, glug, glug he continues. I move my car, nope not a good spot, still to much grass. He watches me. Glug, glug, glug. I backup my car hoping for better lighting and a better view. Have the view but not the best lighting. glug, glug, glug . . . Mr American Bittern is on his stage and he can have the lighting any way he wants it. Glug, glug, glug . . . glug, glug on into the late afternoon as the sun nears the horizon.



Time for me to go. Best wishes to you, handsome Bittern. I hope you find love in the marshes.
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