104 
WILD WINGS 
from the slimy depths under the “ bonnets ” or the floating 
fields of water-lettuce. In the swamp itself, that stretched 
away for forty miles, — a wonderful area of immense cypresses, 
live-oaks, and other Southern trees, with stately palmettos to 
guard its portals, — the Barred Owls were quiet in the shade 
of foliage and streaming Spanish moss, but the tall, stately 
W'ood Ibises— great birds, almost “man grown” in stature 
— were nesting out on the spreading boughs of the cypresses, 
a hundred, yes, a hundred and twenty-five feet from the 
ground, where no enemy, without wings, could harm them. 
On the edge of this great, lonely, shadowy swamp was 
an open slough or marsh, now nearly dried up by the spring 
sunshine. To the last and deepest pool had resorted many 
a small fish, in vain search for moisture for its parching gills. 
But even that had become quite dry ; the fish lay dead in 
heaps, and a flock of about a dozen Turkey Buzzards, gather¬ 
ing there, had gorged themselves to repletion. Sluggishly 
they stood on the moist ground, with drooping heads and 
wings, revelling in their satietv and in the warm sunshine. 
Little note did thev take of passing time, until suddenly four 
men came right upon them and forced them into unwilling 
flight. 
It was our party, who had spent most of the day exploring 
the great cypress swamp with two special plans in mind. 
One was to see a nesting colony of the Wood Ibises in the 
immense cvpresses, which the guide had visited in previous 
seasons ; the other was to find a reputed buzzard rookery. 
Two “crackers” had called at our camp on the way to the 
coast to sell some enormous rattlesnake skins, and, in describ¬ 
ing the region, had told us of a place in the great swamp, 
six or eight miles from here, which was a remarkable resort 
for buzzards. Occasionally, in hunting, they had passed it, 
and had seen large numbers of the buzzards sunning them- 
