222 THE GULF COAST OF FLORIDA. 



meadow, of perhaps an acre, a sight met our eyes that might 

 have inspired the soul of a poet to sing his sweetest songs, or 

 have awakened in the mind of the prosiest human being 

 visions of Paradise. There sat great flocks of large, richly- 

 colored birds, the backs of which were nearly white, the 

 wings and breast a rich and varied pink, changing in some of 

 the males to almost a scarlet. These are the roseate spoon- 

 bill. 



In another part of the glade is a large flock of the stately 

 wood ibis, with a body of pure white, and the wings a 

 glossy, radiant purple and black. In still another part, a 

 flock of snowy white egrets, and here and there a blue or 

 gray heron,* or other tropical bird. Alarmed by our ap- 

 proach they all arose, but as if aware that their matchless 

 beauty was a perfect safeguard against the destroying hand of 

 man, they soared around over our heads for several minutes 

 before flying away. As they thus hovered over us we stood 

 and contemplated the scene in silent awe and admiration. 

 Our guns were at a parade rest. We had no desire to stain a 

 single one of their elegant plumes with their rich blood. Our 

 souls were filled with thoughts of heaven and the bright angels 

 who hover o'er its golden gates. 



Finally, Jack yielded. to a desire to secure one of the birds 

 for mounting, and selecting one of the finest specimens, as 

 they sailed over us, fired. The bird fell into the river, 

 and an alligator, a lank, hungry, ugly looking old cuss, who 

 had been watching for such a chance to secure a meal, went 

 for it and took it under the water in a twinkling. 



Then our visions of paradise fled, and we almost imagined 

 we were in the other place, face to face with old Satan him- 

 self. 



We strolled up the river a mile, to the foot of Lower 

 e. Lake which is about a mile and a half wide at the 



