Bird-Life on the Everglades 291 



The Indians call the Glades "Pi-oki," or drowned prairies, and this is an 

 admirable name for them. Mile after mile, they stretch away, barren, grassy 

 wastes, level as a billiard table, with occasional hammocks, or meadow islands, 

 to break the monotony, and scarcely ever a living thing in sight. 



In the Glades we saw Kingfishers not infrequently. Occasionally we ran 

 across a small, dark-colored Duck — a noisy chap. Vultures and Hawks were 

 most abundant. If I am not mistaken, we saw some Hawks, which appeared 

 to be Ospreys. We also saw a few Limpkins, but bird life was very sparse. I 

 do not believe that this is so much because they have been hunted to death as 

 that they have never been abundant there. There is little food to attract them. 



I am happy that I have been able to visit this little-known region. With 

 such comparatively populous places as Palm Beach and Miami on their very 

 threshhold, the Everglades and the Big Cypress remain less known than 

 British East Africa. Several bands of Seminoles, one of our last "wild" Indian 

 tribes, still maintain a remarkably primitive existence in these swamps. 

 Neither wards of the United States nor citizens, they are a care-free, manly, 

 upright people, cleanly, moral, truthful, and hospitable, even to those who 

 they have reason to suspect are their enemies. They are not responsible for 

 the great slaughter of the innocent that has been waged against the unfortu- 

 nate animals. 



As we floated down the newly-dug drainage canals, past the great dredges, 

 into the Miami river, on our homeward journey, I noticed a sad expression 

 on the face of Jack Tigertail, the Indian who was accompanying me at this 

 point. I know what he was thinking. 



The Snowy Egret, the Paroquet, the Ivory-bill, are gone; and soon the 

 alligator will be as mythical as the Dodo. Now the ever-hungry maw of 

 civilization — or better, speculation — is stretching out to grasp the Everglades. 

 They will, no doubt, be drained; that I believe is possible. Near Miami for 

 a few miles there is muck enough to justify this undertaking; but further 

 inland the rock bottom is so nearly devoid of earth that I should not care to 

 invest in Everglade land. But there are those who will. Then the Indian 

 will follow the other unfortunates of my list. 



