The Gray Kingbird at Home 



167 



their necks upward, opening their larj^e mouths, expectantly awaiting food. 

 The mother was nearl^y, with her large beak full; so I paddled on to give her 

 a chance to feed her hungry babies, and also to make tracks for shelter, as 

 great rain clouds were banking in the skies. 



Rain simply streamed down for the following week, night and day almost 

 incessantly. On the seventh day, the sun nosed his way through once more, 

 and I again journeyed to the mangroves. The lakes and streams along the 

 way had risen, carrying away bridges and drowning the young Crackles and Red- 

 wings, as the heretofore reed-covered ponds were nearly uninterrupted sheets 



NEST AND EGGS OF GRAY KINGBIRD 



of water, and below were dozens of young that had been unable to escape as the 

 water closed over them. I had fears now as to whether my Kingbirds had 

 survived this devastating downpour; and, indeed, my fears were only too well 

 justified, for, on reaching the nests, I found them battered and soaked, some 

 dislodged and in others the young dead. Probably death resulted from cold and 

 wet and perhaps also starvation, as it would have been a hard job to secure 

 much for the babes to eat during those days. 



I paddled away sadly. The storm had done its work grimly; not only 

 Blackbirds and Kingbirds had suffered, the ground nesters had had as much 

 trouble. The Plovers' nests on the beaches were destroyed by the high tides, 

 and Chuck-wills' eggs that had been found floating were brought in. Instead 

 of being discouraged and moping over this tragedy, the little feathered workers 



