294 THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



high walls of concrete, all of dazzling whiteness, 

 draped with creepers, overhung with masses of* 

 vivid poinsettia, tall palm trees lifting their stately 

 heads in the background. 



The procession of peasants coming to market 

 began to pass us, for it was Saturday, singly and 

 in groups of three or four, the women bearing 

 heavy burdens on their heads. The diminutive 

 donkeys which they drove carried panniers heaped 

 with yams, sweet potatoes, charcoal, grass, and 

 sugar-cane, and now and again groaned under the 

 weight of a lazy master. Short skirts, caught up 

 with a curious hitch suggesting a reversed bustle, 

 loose jackets, bare legs and feet, turbans of brill- 

 iant colors, rags and tatters, characterize the 

 drivers as they trot rapidly past with merry smile 

 and a quaint courtesy in return for our greetings. 

 The occasional men of the party meanwhile trudge- 

 stolidly along, passing us unnoticed, their only bur- 

 den a machete carried in the hand or on the head. 



And so it continued, this never ending proces- 

 sion, till we reached the gates of Constant Spring 

 Hotel, six miles distant from the city. Thus far 

 we had seen few birds, save the " John Crows," 

 turkey-buzzards circling just above the house-tops, 

 and tick birds (anis) walking on the grass by the 

 roadside. The ani is a slim bird, with a body a 

 little larger than that of a cow-bird, and a long tail. 

 The color is black, and the glossy feathers are 



