82 BIRDS 



snake being hidden under a cactus and ready to strike 

 at any time, and you have an idea of the many pleasures 

 one must miss, as he worms his passage two or three 

 miles through this mess. 



My bird enthusiasm and clothing were somewhat 

 dampened long before I heard, smelled or saw the breed- 

 ing grounds. I arrived at last with my skin and clothing 

 somewhat the worse for wear, but my enthusiasm was 

 renewed as soon as I beheld the size of the rookery and 

 the number of its inhabitants. There were about three 

 hundred big waders nesting in the tops of the low mes- 

 quite trees. Many of the nests were empty, as the young 

 had grown to the size of full-grown birds and were away, 

 feeding in the lagoons. Others, full-grown young, were 

 in the nests. At my approach, the old birds arose from 

 every treetop while many of the young began screaming 

 from fright and others kept on begging for food. The 

 old birds, with folded necks and outstretched legs, were 

 flying in confusion over my head, dropping a chalk line 

 at every post and disgorging partly-digested catfish or 

 mullet at every turn. 



There were three young birds in most of the nests, 

 and three fresh eggs in those of incubating birds. One 

 youngster had a wing off at the elbow but was perfectly 

 well and active. Near the rookery I saw a Large White 

 Heron associating with the Big Blues. A Mr. Watson, 

 living near the rookery, told me that this white bird was 

 often in the blue rookery, and had been visiting there 

 four years. It was very wild and hard to approach. This 

 was probably a hybrid or an albino phase of the Big Blue. 



I found one full-grown bird dead, hanging head 

 down, with a foot grasping a limb in a death grip. These 

 birds are good climbers and will return to the nest if by 

 chance they should tumble to the ground. 



I selected a nest with three young in it, located favor- 

 ably for picturing, and erecting the umbrella tent within 

 fifteen feet of the spot I entered the hot-air prison to 

 await the return of the old birds. 



While the sun was streaming its torrid rays, the 

 three little Herons, with pulsating gular sacs and perspi- 

 ration in great drops dripping from their yellow and 

 black bills, patiently awaited the return of the food-pro- 



