Really it was clear and sparkling.

The tinge of blackness was gained from its bed of muck showing through the transparent current.

He could see small and wonderfully marked fish.

What became of them when the creek spread into the swamp?
For one thing, they would make mighty fine eating for the family of that self-satisfied old blue heron.
Freckles sat so quietly that soon the brim of his hat was covered with snake-feeders, rasping their crisp wings and singing while they rested.
Some of them settled on the club, and one on his shoulder.

He was so motionless; feathers, fur, and gauze were so accustomed to him, that all through the swale they continued their daily life and forgot he was there.
The heron family were wading the mouth of the creek.