THE BORDER OF THE GLADES 



hen, or limpkin, which I had shot with this lunch 

 in view. 



Limes and lemons filled the trees and covered 

 the ground in bushels. Of the former we packed 

 a goodly store in the canoe. In transporting 

 these I utilized the hint a Florida girl had given 

 me by carrying half a bushel of cocoa-plums in 

 her shirt waist. 



We dreamed through the afternoon, paddle in 

 hand, finding objects of interest at every stroke. 

 Tiny tree frogs, protectively colored, chirped 

 within reach of my paddle and it was minutes 

 before I could see them, while graceful forked- 

 tailed kites, swooping down from their lofty 

 height, gathered the little creatures in, without 

 pausing in their flight. The great rookeries of 

 the river had been destroyed, but we found 

 scattered nests of herons, curlews, water turkeys, 

 and other birds, and seldom did a mother-bird 

 flee from our cautious approach. Just before us 

 a crow darted down upon an unguarded nest and 

 carried away a little egg, impaled upon its beak. 

 But the avenger was on the trail of the nest rob- 

 ber and a swift-flying bee bird, the kingbird of 

 the north, attacked it in the air. The crow fled 



177 



