264 THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



and gaping mouths that it was high time for some 

 one to go to the fish market. Needless to say, I 

 went at once. Nor was this the end. I found I 

 could not get rid of them. Like Sinbad the 

 sailor, I had taken up a load, and could not lay it 

 down ; the Old Man of the Sea would not relin- 

 quish the advantage he had gained. After vari- 

 ous experiments and expedients, an arrangement 

 was contrived that seemed fair to all parties. 

 There was a boat-house on the bayou that had 

 a grated water door through which the tide rose 

 and fell, and inside was a spacious pool for the 

 accommodation of various craft. Now, this was 

 not in use ; and here, for a time, two or three 

 weeks, the birds were confined. They were sup- 

 plied daily with food, and were able to catch 

 many small fry that swam about in the enclosure, 

 eking out a good living. After a time the water- 

 gate was left open, when they all waded out, and 

 flew to various points in the bayou. From that 

 time on for months the herons were daily seen 

 walking about, and at any time when I had a fish, 

 I could call them and they would come and get it. 

 With the arrival of sportsmen from the North, one 

 by one these birds were sacrificed to satisfy the 

 killing instinct that seemed to be rampant in the 

 breast of every man who invaded Tarpon. The 

 last one disappeared about fourteen or fifteen 

 months after liberation. 



