136 WILD WINGS 



the yacht, and then to the settlement, where we hired a con- 

 veyance and drove ten miles through a region of sandy soil 

 and pine forest to an old rice-plantation. There we hunted up 

 the foreman, who knew the location of the rookery, in a great 

 cypress swamp. We found him kind and willing, ready to 

 take us to the place at once. First we tramped a mile along 

 a woodland trail, when we came to an arm of muddy water 

 under high, overarching trees, and a small, flat-bottomed 

 skiff. Working two paddles, we glided on and soon emerged 

 in a great area of cypress trees growing out of the water. 

 Alligators and turtles splashed before us, and buzzards and 

 ospreys wheeled overhead. From the cypress branches, with 

 their delicate needle-foliage of pale green, hung the streaming 

 gray moss. Pairs of Wood Ducks started up now and then 

 from the water with resounding wing-beats. Bees hummed 

 merrily about, and now and then were to be seen issuing 

 from the hollow of some "bee-tree," which was, no doubt, 

 full of delectable honey. It was a new experience, with an 

 atmosphere of weirdness and grandeur, to be gliding silently 

 over the water under the shadows of moss-bearded forest 

 sentinels. 



The beginning of the rookery was over a mile beyond us> 

 and meanwhile we were interested in the huge nests of the 

 Ospreys, built on the extreme tops of dead cypress stubs, 

 thirty to sixty feet from the water. We paused by one com- 

 paratively low down, and secured some good snap-shots as 

 the angry female alighted in the nest or was leaving it. 



Though it was late in the afternoon, and a shower was 

 imminent, we determined to see something of the rookery 

 that night, and to explore it more thoroughly next day. So 

 we paddled on, stopping all too often to push the boat off from 

 some submerged snag on which we were stranded. At length 

 the harsh squawking of herons became audible, and we 



