14 On the Guadal quiver. 



II. The Marismas. 



THE small creek in which we were anchored proved a 

 pleasant spot, at all events from our point of view. 

 Birds were plentiful all around us, not only during the 

 hot and glaring day, but also at night, when their notes 



some well-known to us, some unknown, wild and 



weird — formed pleasing variations to the metallic buzz 

 of the persistent mosquito. 



This part of the marismas consists of dry caked mud, 

 covered with short grass and dwarf bog plants. At in- 

 tervals, even this scanty vegetation ceases altogether and 

 mud and water reign supreme. These patches of water, 

 some of which are very large, are called lucias. They are 

 quite shallow, being seldom more than two feet in depth, 

 and they are encircled by a belt of dry mud, the surface of 

 which is pitted with hoof marks, and cracked in every con- 

 ceivable direction. Being a luxurious feeding place for 

 ducks, geese, and all wading birds, a lucia forms a perfect 

 Eden for that eccentric being, the ornithologist. 



To deal first with the dry land. Within a few yards of 

 our camp were the nests of two different species of larks 



