Storks and Wood Ibises 



to-day, and where one meets the bird at all, it is likely to be in 

 the company of at least a score of its kind, with possibly a few 

 buzzards sailing in their midst. "The great abundance of the 

 wood ibis on the Colorado, especially the lower portions of the 

 river," says Dr. Coues, " has not been generally recognized until 

 of late years, . . . but the swampy tracts and bayous of Louisi- 

 ana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida are . . . their favorite 

 homes." 



Speaking of a hunting trip on the Myakka River in west 

 Florida, in 1879, Mr. G. O. Shields writes: "As we walked 

 quietly around a bend in the river, just out of sight of our camp, 

 and came to an open glade or meadow of perhaps an acre, a sight 

 met our eyes that might have inspired the soul of a poet or have 

 awakened in the mind of the prosiest human being visions of 

 Paradise. There sat great flocks of richly colored birds, the backs 

 of which were nearly white, the wings and breast a rich and 

 varied pink, changing in some of the males to almost scarlet. 

 These were the roseate spoonbills [now nearly extinct]. In an- 

 other part of the glade was a large flock of the stately wood ibis, 

 with body of pure white, and wings a glossy radiant purple and 

 black. In still another part, a flock of snowy white egrets, 

 and here and there a blue or gray heron, or other tropical bird. 

 Alarmed at our approach they all arose, but, as if aware their 

 matchless beauty was a safeguard against the destroying hand of 

 man, they soared around over our heads for several minutes 

 before flying away. As they thus hovered over us we stood and 

 contemplated the scene in silent awe and admiration. Our guns 

 were at a parade rest. We had no desire to stain a single one of 

 the exquisite plumes with blood." 



Indolent as creatures of the tropics are wont to be, the wood 

 stork goes to no further effort to secure a dinner than dancing 

 about in the shallow edges of the lagoon, to stir up the mud, 

 which brings the fish to the top. A sharp stroke from its 

 heavy bill leaves the fish floating about dead to serve as bait. 

 With head drawn in between its shoulders, a pensive, sedate 

 figure, the stork now calmly waits for other fish, frogs, lizards, 

 or other reptiles to approach the bait, when, quick as thought, it 

 strikes right and left, helping itself to the choicest food, and 

 leaving the rest for the buzzards and alligators. A sun bath after 

 such a gorge completes its happiness. 



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