4 NATURE AND SPOUT IN SOUTH AFRICA 



I have seen many strange spectacles in South 

 Africa, but that first sunset on the Lake river — the 

 dying splendour of the sky, the flame and smoke of 

 the burning reed-beds, and the wonderful flight of 

 the pelicans — will never fade from memory. 



Next morning, at sunrise, as we lay in our 

 blankets, the first sounds that met our ears were the 

 soft, melancholy whistling, uttered invariably in five 

 notes, of the pelicans as they rose from the river, and 

 before taking their departure for the day, again 

 repeated their evolutions in the sky. These evolu- 

 tions were carried out every morning and evening, 

 with unfailing regularity, for about half-an-hour. 

 After the morning performance, the birds invariably 

 hied them to a great salt-pan (or what is called a 

 salt-pan in South Africa)— in reality a brack-pan, 

 upon which, after the rains, is found an efflorescence 

 of salt or lime. The pelicans fished night and morn- 

 ing, but I fancy their main feed took place in the early 

 morning, after which, with their pouches well filled, 

 they betook themselves to the salt-pan a few miles 

 distant. Here they seemed to sit or stand about all 

 day; what they did or what they thought about 

 during the long, hot hours I could never clearly 

 make out. At about four o'clock, or a little 

 after, if we were at the wagons, we could tell 

 by the long lines of flight, and presently by the 

 soft whistling notes and the distant beat of wings, 



