58 WILD WINGS 



crossed the bayou into the main part of the rookery. About 

 four P. M. we reached a place where it came nearly to an 

 end, and, thanks to a fallen tree, we managed to flounder 

 across. The very first nest I examined, about six feet from the 

 ground, contained four young Snowy Herons. While I was 

 standing there, the queenly mother, exquisite with her back- 

 load of elegant drooping " aigrette" plumes, flew down and 

 fed her princely children. About twenty-five feet up the next 

 tree, also a black mangrove, was another bunch of sticks in 

 a crotch. A sort of pinkish flush around its edge led me to 

 climb to it, and I gazed upon three young Roseate Spoon- 

 bills. They were perhaps a third grown, and were clad in 

 a whitish down, through which pink feathers, especially on 

 the wings, were growing. If the young herons were princely, 

 surely we must call these royal, clad in what could pass for 

 kingly " purple." A little distance away were a brood of 

 young spoonbills, nearly grown, that were scrambling out 

 of their nest. On the tree-tops around perched a scattered 

 company of White Ibises, Louisiana and Snowy Herons, and 

 the elegant pink creatures of the soup-ladle bill, looking down 

 upon us in silent fear and protest at the intrusion. 



My plates were nearly all used, but I expended the remain- 

 ing few judiciously among the mass of wonderful material, 

 taking briefly timed exposures with the smaller camera 

 screwed up near the nests, and slow snaps with the " Reflex," 

 with single lens, at the " Pink Curlews " upon the trees. Then 

 the guide fairly dragged me back, despite my protests that 

 I had not yet seen the nests of the American Egrets or of 

 the Wood Ibises beyond. But it was very necessary to get out 

 of that morass before sundown. After a hard struggle we 

 succeeded in so doing, but with unspeakable regret on my 

 part over what I was leaving behind. 



If ever in my life I was thoroughly tired out, it was when, in 



