QUIET CRUISING 



Often a kingfisher started up the river before 

 us, with the same joyous screech I had heard 

 from Hudson Bay to Cape Sable, while the 

 king-bird I knew in the North was the bee- 

 martin of the Southern river and the same trucu- 

 lent assailant of enemies much bigger than itself. 

 The Kentucky cardinal was only a red-bird in 

 Florida, but it was as friendly and songful as 

 under its olden name. Herons, big, little, and 

 Louisianas, dragged their long legs in the air as 

 they flew from us. Flocks of white, curved-bill 

 ibis flew swiftly over our heads, while a fork- 

 tailed hawk, most graceful of created things, 

 floated in curves about the topmost branches of 

 the trees, gathering its insect prey without alight- 

 ing. 



Little flocks of ducks and coots rose skittering 

 from the water as they fled before us. Bunches 

 of water turkeys sat on branches that overhung 

 the water and as we approached dropped beneath 

 its surface as clumsily as a pelican alights upon 

 it. Then followed the quick, darting motions of 

 the slim head and neck that have given this bird 

 the descriptive names of Darter and Snake Bird. 

 Man-o'-war hawks floated a thousand or two feet 



169 



