108 STORIES OF BIRD LIFE 



whose boggy shore was a most uncertain one. Trees, un- 

 derbrush and a mass of thick vines extended some distance 

 out into the water as well as fifty yards or more up into the 

 woods where one might expect the shore to be. Through 

 an opening in the foliage I noticed several black vultures 

 circling about at the opposite side of the pond. A number 

 of others had perched on the cypress boughs, and two 

 were standing among the long leaves of a cabbage palmetto 

 tree. One or two sat quietly picking and shoveling the 

 feathers of their backs and wings about with their bills, but 

 the others were continually craning their necks and peering 

 downward into the bog. Whatever it was that interested 

 them was hidden from view by the bushes. I could detect 

 no odor of carrion although directly to leeward of the 

 spot. 



Such unusual actions surely needed investigation, so 

 riding around to the opposite side of the pond I turned my 

 horse in through the jungle toward the spot where I 

 guessed the vultures to be, for the growth was too dense 

 to see them. Thick bushes and a confusion of palmetto 

 leaves made it impossible to see the ground a yard ahead. 

 At almost every step great thorny vines had to be cut away 

 from before the horse's legs or breast. Mosquitoes 

 swarmed by the myriad in my face and on my hands, while 

 the little deer flies made life for me a burden, and drove the 



