in the Peninsula of Florida. 137 



three words into one, as " Wipperwill.^^ It also frequently com- 

 mences with '' Whip, whip," two or three times before uttering 

 its full note. I did not observe it in Florida. Just before the 

 Chuck- Will's-Widow begins to call, the bushes often resound 

 with the cry of a small bird, which I was unable to obtain. 

 Its cry is very peculiar, and sounds like "churrri'r," very 

 roughly uttered and prolonged. The people about said it was 

 a Cat-Bird ; but they were wrong, as I am perfectly well ac- 

 quainted with the note of the Cat-Bird. While out in the woods 

 in the evening I used frequently to see Barred Owls sitting on 

 the open branches. They were tame, and would allow of my 

 approach within a short distance. 



March 31. — Out at sunrise to the pine-barrens. I see plenty 

 of both Quiscalus major and Q. versicolor. I observe but very few 

 females in proportion to the males. This is strange, for I re- 

 member when in Honduras that the majority was the other way. 

 The male there has the character of being polygamous ; but 

 here it appears that the contrary rule of polyandry obtains. 



Quails are abundant, and particularly so on these pine-bar- 

 rens. With a pointer or setter, very good sport might be had ; 

 but, without a dog, it is useless to attempt shooting them. I 

 sometimes start a covey from under my feet, and occasionally 

 some of them fly into the trees, when I secure a few for the pot. 

 Early in the morning they are to be seen running about in 

 the road which passes thi'ough the pine-barrens, from Smyrna 

 to Enterprise. 



I hear ^'Clapper Bails" every evening, and sometimes during 

 the day, calling among the mangrove-bushes which grow in the 

 swampy islands opposite Sheldon^s house. The cover is so dense, 

 that without a dog it would be impossible to get a shot. The 

 mud too is deep and stiff; so upon the whole there is no great 

 encouragement to go in pursuit of them. My habit here is to 

 go out at daybreak. By nine o'clock in the morning the sun is 

 becoming hot : I come in, have my bath and breakfast, and then 

 set to work skinning birds. In the afternoon I go out again ; 

 but the morning is always the more productive. From 9 to 11 

 o'clock is the hottest time of the day, as the sea-breeze does not 

 set in until about the latter hour. The thermometer in my room 



