254 I N A G U A 



mingos began to stalk back and forth. Soon I was a hundred 

 yards away, then fifty. 



A roar of sound suddenly burst across the water and a thou- 

 sand pairs of scarlet wings beat the air at once, throbbing, 

 and the flock went screaming into the sky. It was the most 

 breath-taking sight I have ever witnessed. The skin at the base 

 of my scalp crept at the magnitude of it. In long skeins, a hun- 

 dred crimson birds to a line, the shrieking flocks soared into 

 the heavens. Higher and higher they mounted, wheeled, and 

 in a colorful deluge poured over the horizon. 



The spectacle was so magnificent that I stood open-mouthed 

 for some minutes. Recovering, I moved on to the tiny islands 

 where the flock had stood and there, only a few inches above 

 the water, on some barren rocks, found a few nests. These 

 consisted of mounds of mud about a foot in height. On the 

 top of the mounds was a slight depression, and in each de- 

 pression a single egg. The eggs were chalky white and about 

 three times as large as a hen egg. One egg had been trampled 

 by the flock and the yolk was drooling from the crushed 

 shell. It was not yellow, but deep sickly red. 



The birds were just beginning to lay. A few nests were 

 in process of construction. I was interested to observe that 

 they were reinforced with layers of lake weed which the 

 birds packed into the mud while it was wet. This was a note 

 which none of the ornithology books mentioned and may have 

 been an Inaguan peculiarity. I examined the place for photo- 

 graphic possibilities and decided the only way to photograph 

 the birds satisfactorily would be from a blind. But there was 

 no room on the rocks for a hiding place nor materials from 

 which to build one. The only solution was to construct some 

 sort of boat, place a shelter on it and anchor it close to the 

 colony. 



I lied to Mary, told her the birds had not yet laid their 



