GATHERING BIRDS’ EGGS IN FLORIDA 159 
were constantly flying about our camp, screaming and 
scolding, but lending a real touch of tropical life. 
There were fifteen or twenty parrakeets in each flock 
and often three flocks in sight at once. They were very 
tame and crowded around our camp, curious to see 
everything going on and very fond of crumbs of ship 
biscuit. It was a pleasure to watch them. Half a 
dozen would light on a small bough. Then one would 
drop down, hanging by his claws, then reach up and 
nip the legs of his nearest neighbor with his beak and 
wake him with a screech out of a seeming doze. Then 
all hands would hear about the joke and from the noise 
they made evidently found it most enjoyable. 
The Captain shot a parrakeet and it fell, wing broken, 
finding fault with all the world in loud tones. Imme- 
diately several flocks hovered over him, all screaming at 
the top of their small lungs, evidently asking, ‘‘What 
in the world is the matter now?’’’ It was a beautiful 
sight to see fifty or more of these little bits of green and 
gold circling in the sunlight over their wounded com- 
rade. 
We had fine fishing in the St. John’s, large-mouth black 
bass, great green and black fellows. We trolled for 
them, using old-fashioned spoons, silvered outside and 
painted red inside. The fish were slow taking hold but 
we finally caught one. I cut a good slice from its belly 
and fastened it on my hook. 
‘“What’s that for?’’ asked the Captain. 
‘“To attract the fish,’’ I answered; ‘‘now watch me 
catch three to your one.’”’ 
That was just what happened until the Captain got 
disgusted and followed my example. 
The bass bit smartly and were hauled in by main 
strength, hand over hand. Even then they made rushes 
