The Audubon Societies 



the tag end of tin- shc)rc--l)ir(l niiiiration 

 had also passed on, i^ivinu: mv onl\- ;i few- 

 glimpses of lingeriti!^ Dowiuhcrs, Turn- 

 stones, Sanderlingji, \'ello\v-k'gs, and Red- 

 backed Sandpipers, and no sight of the 

 hordes of Golden Plovers, the last thx k 

 having been seen by the warden the week 

 before my visit. A few southern-breeding 

 shore-birds — Wilson's Plovers, Oyster- 

 catchers and Willets — were all that re- 

 mained after my tirst week. 



But other hosts were there, — wonderful, 

 spectacular. Everywhere could be heard 

 the cackle of the ever-present Laughing 

 Gull, which bred by scores, hundreds, or 

 thousands, as the case might be, on nearly 

 every one of the numerous islands of the 

 reservation, and on many others not yet 

 protected. This species was the most 

 atiunflant and widely-distributed of all. 

 With them were occasional small colonies 

 of Forster's Terns, perhaps a couple of 

 dozen nests in each group, built on areas 

 of drift-weed washed up on the marsh. 

 Many of the inner marshy islands had 

 strips of low mangrove bushes or clumps 

 of weeds, in which, or on the ground by 

 them, nested great numbers of Louisiana 

 Herons. Occasionally there were with 

 them a few Black-crowned Night Herons, 

 locally known as 'Grosbecs. ' On just one 

 island was a pitiful remnant of former 

 great colonies of the superlative Snowy 

 Heron. Luckily I was able to secure a 

 splendid series of intimate photographic 

 studies of the home life of this exquisite 

 but unfortunate possessor of the damning 

 (to all concerned) aigrette plumes. A 

 flock of some two hundred of the larger 

 American Egrets seen by Warden Sprinkle 

 in April did not return to breed. 



On certain of the outer sand keys are 

 immense breeding areas of Royal and 

 Cabot's Terns, of the wonders of which 

 even the accompanying photograph can 

 give but an imperfect impression, as com- 

 pared with the actual sights and sounds. 

 Gales and high tides are now a worse 

 enemy of these birds than man. A few 

 days preceding my visit, a high tide, in 

 calm weather at that, obliterated an area 

 of probably from 1,500 to 2,000 nests. 



A few small colonies of the Casjiian Tern 

 were noted. The largest of these, with 

 some 200 nests, had just lost all their eggs 

 by raccoons. Save for a few Least Terns 

 which one day flew by the vessel, I did 

 not find the species on the reservation. 

 No other Terns were noted than the above 

 kinds. 



.Another abundant i)ir(I is the curious 

 Black Skimmer, which lays in numerous 

 groups of from a few dozen to a couple of 

 hundred pairs just above high-water mark 

 on the dry beaches of these outer keys. 

 Brown Pelicans and Man-o'-war Birds 

 had finished nesting, and, when not feed- 

 ing, resorted to the outer keys and sand- 

 bars to rest, the latter by thousands, acres 

 and acres of them. 



The abundance of bird-life here begins 

 to suggest what it must have been in these 

 waters in the palmy days before greedy 

 millinery interests and brainless fashion 

 started in unholy alliance to e.xterminate 

 the wild birds of America. Much of the 

 credit for the present encouraging con- 

 ditions on this part of the southern coast 

 is due to Frank M. Miller, as leader and 

 instigator, and to the backing of the mem- 

 bers of the Louisiana Audubon Society, 

 as well as to many of the members of 

 the Louisiana legislature, who have been 

 broad-minded enough to realize the value 

 of this great work and to close their ears 

 to the clamor of selfish interests. In Capt. 

 William 'SI. Sprinkle, the warden, whom 

 I found a delightful companion, and whose 

 thorough acquaintance with every foot of 

 those five hundred square miles of shallows 

 was my perpetual amazement, the Audu- 

 bon Societies and the National Govern- 

 ment have a most faithful and efficient 

 ally in guarding this great reservation. — 

 Herbert K. Job. 



Willow Isl.axd, Coxx. — Willow Is- 

 land, the new bird refuge recently leased 

 by the National Association of Audubon 

 Societies, is situated in the Connectiuct 

 river between ]SIiddletown and Portland, 

 Connecticut, and contains a little more 

 than thirty-three acres. It is about three- 

 quarters of a mile long and an eighth of 



