THE EGRET 
135 
When the question was up for decision whether or not to 
go to a certain locality, the information that “white cranes” 
were constantly seen, and might be nesting somewhere about, 
decided it in the affirmative. So great a romantic, sesthetic, 
yes, and pathetic interest attaches to this beautiful, spectacular 
species that one might well travel far for the chance, however 
slim, of studying it from life, ere it is too late. 
Thus it came about, at length, that after a long sail up a 
series of narrow, tortuous creeks, between walls of impassable 
mud and through immense salt marshes, we found ourselves 
anchored at the desired locality. Even before the anchor 
took the mud, late in the afternoon, I had seen the sun glance 
on the dazzling whiteness of several dozen of the Egrets 
as.they flew to and from the marsh, immaculate amid the 
Southern mud which sticks like glue. 
On shore, in the little village, the opinion prevailed that 
the “ white cranes ” nested in a strip of timber on the edge 
of the marsh, four miles away, and a negro boatman was 
engaged to row us over there bright and early. When the 
sun rose, we could see Egrets flying toward the timber, and 
several of the trees appeared white, as though crowded with 
the birds. Two of our company started off directly in the 
tender upon another jaunt, while another and myself waited 
for the darky. Bv nine o’clock we were feeling the race 
problem increasingly from the Southern standpoint. Finally 
we managed to hail a passing boat, and a negro boy pulled 
us up the creeks to the desired locality. There was not 
a sign of a heron there ; the whiteness on the trees was the 
sunlight glancing on the dark, shiny leaves. But we accom¬ 
plished much by meeting a man who was a hunter and had 
traversed the region thoroughly, who told us where the Egret 
rookery really was. 
Following his directions, we had the boy row us back to 
