54 
WILD WINGS 
able muddy bayous, about thirty feet wide, bordered by thick¬ 
ets of mang'ro\'e. The trees were fairly alive with splendid 
great birds and their half-grown young. The most abundant 
was the White Ibis, a hne creature, snow-white, with black 
wing-tips and brilliant red legs and bills, both long, the latter 
decLirved. They are locally called “ White Curlews,” and are 
esteemed as one of the best and most abundant food-birds of 
the region. Their young are of a dark gray color, with white 
on the rump, and were now in the stage when, though unable 
to dy, they had left the nests. The woods were fairly alive 
with them. Droves of them raced over the ground under the 
mangroves or climbed among the branches in all directions. 
Next in abundance was the little Louisiana Heron, the 
common blue-gray species with white under parts, whose 
young were in about the same condition as the young ibises, 
and mingled with them. Across the bavou we could hear, 
though not see, the large, graceful, snow-white American 
Egrets, and their young. As with the peacock, beauty of 
form and plumage is not matched with sweetness of song, 
and this lo\'ely dream of a bird speaks in harshest, rattling 
grunts. Much the same is true of the elegant little Snowy 
Heron, of plumage as its name implies, a few of which we 
could see dropping into the woods beyond our muddy Jordan. 
But what almost jmralyzed me with excitement was the 
sight of half a dozen or so of large rosy-pink birds quietly 
]:)erched upon the trees just opjDosite us across the barrier — 
the Roseate Spoonbill on its nesting-ground ! Now and then 
a rosy apparition of living loveliness would take the eye. 
What a spectacle, the dark green mangrove foliage dotted 
with ibises of dazzling whiteness, “ Pink Curlews” (the local 
name), and blue-tinted herons ! Here I felt I had reached 
the high-water mark of spectacular sights in the bird-world. 
Wherever I may penetrate in future wanderings, I never 
