THE EGRET 135 



When the question was up for decision whether or not to 

 go to a certain locality, the information that " white cranes " 

 were constantly seen, and might be nesting somewhere about, 

 decided it in the affirmative. So great a romantic, aesthetic, 

 yes, and pathetic interest attaches to this beautiful, spectacular 

 species that one might well travel far for the chance, however 

 slim, of studying it from life, ere it is too late. 



Thus it came about, at length, that after a long sail up a 

 series of narrow, tortuous creeks, between walls of impassable 

 mud and through immense salt marshes, we found ourselves 

 anchored at the desired locality. Even before the anchor 

 took the mud, late in the afternoon, I had seen the sun glance 

 on the dazzling whiteness of several dozen of the Egrets 

 as they flew to and from the marsh, immaculate amid the 

 Southern mud which sticks like glue. 



On shore, in the little village, the opinion prevailed that 

 the "white cranes" nested in a strip of timber on the edge 

 of the marsh, four miles away, and a negro boatman was 

 engaged to row us over .there bright and early. When the 

 sun rose, we could see Egrets flying toward the timber, and 

 several of the trees appeared white, as though crowded with 

 the birds. Two of our company started off directly in the 

 tender upon another jaunt, while another and myself waited 

 for the darky. By nine o'clock we were feeling the race 

 problem increasingly from the Southern standpoint. Finally 

 we managed to hail a passing boat, and a negro boy pulled 

 us up the creeks to the desired locality. There was not 

 a sign of a heron there ; the whiteness on the trees was the 

 sunlight glancing on the dark, shiny leaves. But we accom- 

 plished much by meeting a man who was a hunter and had 

 traversed the region thoroughly, who told us where the Egret 

 rookery really was. 



Following his directions, we had the boy row us back to 



