WILD WINGS 
58 
crossed the bayou into the main part of the rookery. About 
four P. M. we reached a place where it came nearly to an 
end, and, thanks to a fallen tree, we managed to flounder 
across. The very first nest I examined, about six feet from the 
ground, contained four young Snowy Herons. While I was 
standing there, the queenly mother, exc]uisite with her back- 
load of elegant drooping “aigrette’' plumes, flew down and 
fed her princely children. About twenty-five feet up the next 
tree, also a black mangrove, was another bunch of sticks in 
a crotch. A sort of pinkish flush around its edge led me to 
climb to it, and I gazed upon three young Roseate Spoon¬ 
bills. Thev were perhaps a third grown, and were clad in 
a whitish down, through which jiink feathers, especially on 
the wings, were growing. If the young herons were princely, 
surely we must call these royal, clad in what could pass for 
kingly “ purple.’’ A little distance away were a brood of 
young spoonbills, nearly grown, that were scrambling out 
of their nest. On the tree-tops around perched a scattered 
company of White Ibises, Louisiana and Snowy Herons, and 
the elegant pink creatures of the soup-ladle bill, looking down 
upon us in silent fear and protest at the intrusion. 
My plates were nearly all used, but I expended the remain¬ 
ing few judiciously among the mass of wonderful material, 
taking briefly timed exposures with the smaller camera 
screwed ujd near the nests, and slow snaps with the “ Reflex,” 
with single lens, at the “ Pink Curlews ” upon the trees. Then 
the guide fairly dragged me back, despite my protests that 
I had not yet seen the nests of the American Egrets or of 
the Wood Ibises beyond. But it was verv necessary to get out 
of that morass before sundown. After a hard struggle we 
succeeded in so doing, but with unspeakable regret on my 
part over what I was leaving behind. 
If ever in my life I was thoroughly tired out, it was when, in 
