142 ON THE UPPER ST. JOHN’S. 
it got there, I have no idea. Our first bird 
kept his bill parted, as if in distress; a 
peculiar action, which probably had some 
connection with the other bird’s presence, 
although the two paid no attention to each 
other so far as we could make out. When 
we had watched them as long as we pleased, 
I told the boy to pull the boat forward till 
they rose. We got within thirty feet, I 
think. At that point they took flight, and, 
side by side, went soaring into the air, now 
flapping their wings, now scaling in unison. 
It was beautiful to see. As they sat in the 
willows and gazed about, their long necks 
were sometimes twisted like corkscrews, — 
or so they looked, at all events. 
The water-turkey is one of the very odd- 
est of birds. I am not likely to forget the 
impression made upon me by the first one 
I saw. It was standing on a prostrate log, 
but rose, as I drew near, and, to my surprise, 
mounted to a prodigious elevation, where 
for a long time it remained, sailing round 
and round with all the grace of a hen-hawk 
or an eagle. Its neck and head were tenu- 
ous almost beyond belief, — like a knitting- 
needle, I kept repeating to myself. Its tail, 
