In the Haunt of the Snowy 



By Henry Thurston 



IT was my privilege last winter to spend several months with Mr. R. I). 

 Hoyt, the well-known ornithologist, at Seven Oaks, Florida, and there 

 to study nature under his intelligent tuition. As a New York bov, whose 

 • observations had theretofore been confined to my native woods and fields, it 

 is perhaps needless to say that I appreciated the privilege highly, and re- 

 turned with my memory stored with pleasant pictures of Southern bird-life, 

 and a better understanding of their habits than could ever be obtained from 

 specimens under glass. 



Where all was so novel and interesting it is difficult to separate from 

 the mass the one incident which gave me most pleasure, but as I still thrill 

 with the recollection of my first glimpse of the Snowy Heron, I have mark- 

 ed that day in red. 



It was the fifteenth day of March, 19 10. Bingo and I had planned a 

 trip to a neighboring bayou to get some specimens of Scott's Rail for the 

 museum. I had a good deal of faith in the success of our trip as previous 

 experiences had taught me that Bingo was a mighty hunter as well as a 

 near-human and most companionable drg. 



Our way led through the pine woods for a half-mile or so before reach- 

 ing the marsh and was made cheerful by the notes of the Florida Blue Jay 

 and the Southern Meadowlark, the latter of which appeared to be far more 

 approachable than his Northern cousin. Saucy little Brown-headed Nut- 

 hatches ran up and down the trees, the White-eyed Towhees called from 

 the roadside, and the melodious songs of the Mockers and Cardinals poured 

 from every fence-post. From the tree-tops came the delightful carol of the 

 Pine Warblers and the roll and drumming of the Red-cockaded and Red- 

 bellied Woodpeckers. 



The impatience of Bingo, who seemed anxious to get along and do a 

 dog's work, enabled me to resist the temptation to loiter among the pines, 

 and in a short time we reached the marsh. Almost immediately the dog 

 pointed and flushed a pair of Rails, and I fortunately got both This 

 seemed good luck enough for one day, but there was more to follow, as 

 gratifying as it was unexpected. 



While I was working through the marsh a large creek came into view, 

 and a white heron. At first glance I supposed the bird to be a young Lit- 

 tle Blue and was about to turn away when I discovered five more. A sharp- 



19 



