160 FLORIDA 



head. They are Florida gallinules, my first ones 

 for nine years. My glass follows their movements 

 jealously till the thunder of an approaching train 

 startles them and they fly to the shelter of the 

 tall grass. I shall come this way again, and not 

 only see but hear them. Their language is vari- 

 ous and interesting, though most of it has the 

 accent of the barnyard. 



A pileated woodpecker crosses the track just 

 before me, with all his colors flying, a pair of 

 bluebirds sit in their accustomed place upon the 

 telegraph wire, and from the neighboring pines 

 I catch the finch-like twitters of a brown-headed 

 nuthatch. This is close upon the railway station 

 and the golf links. My afternoon is done, but 

 the golf players are still making the most of day- 

 light. I blush to confess it, but there are some 

 enthusiasms with which even that of a strolling 

 naturalist will hardly endure comparison. 



