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The Return of the Snowy Heron 



By HERBERT RAVENEL SASS 



THAT the Snowy Heron (Egretta candidissima) would ever reestablish 

 itself in its former breeding places on the South Atlantic coast north 

 of Florida seemed, until very recently, a possibility so remote as to be 

 unworthy of serious consideration. Twenty-five years ago, it is true, this species 

 was common in the South, breeding in thousands on small islands or 'ham- 

 mocks' in the salt marshes — a race so strong in numbers, so beautiful, and so 

 harmless to man that none could foresee the doom which was so shortly to over- 

 take it. Yet, when once Fashion had decreed that the Snowy Heron's delicate 

 nuptial plumes be used to ornament women's hats, this loveliest of all our marsh- 

 land birds was in a very short time almost blotted out of existence. Along this 

 coast — which for excellent reasons shall be nameless — where formerly it nested 

 in such multitudes, it was considered, up to a few weeks ago, practically, if 

 not absolutely, extinct. 



On May 15, 1908, while exploring certain marshes and sea-beaches in quest 

 of breeding colonies of birds, I was informed of a certain small island or ham- 

 mock in the marsh which was a favorite resort of white and blue 'Cranes.' 

 Supposing that these 'Cranes' were merely Little Blue Herons — an abundant 

 species — in the immature and adult phases, this information seemed of slight 

 importance; but, as the hammock referred to lay close to the river down which 

 our launch was proceeding, we decided to land and have a look at it. The river, 

 which is here a broad tide-water stream, is bordered on either side by wide 

 areas of salt marsh; and presently, when we were still some miles distant, the 

 skipper pointed out the island where he had seen the 'Cranes.' Watching it idly 

 as the launch sped swiftly down the river, we could see a few Herons — some 

 white, some dark in color — flying about above the dense bushes covering the 

 island. At that distance, however, we could distinguish nothing to arouse my 

 suspicions that the birds were other than Little Blue Herons; and it was not 

 until we had left the launch and were ploughing our way through the gummy 

 'pluff' mud toward the 'hammock' — which was situated in the marsh about 

 one hundred and fifty yards from the river — that I suddenly realized that we 

 had discovered a strong breeding colony of the supposedly vanished Snowy 

 Heron, and that the dark birds which I had thought were Little Blues were 

 in reality Louisiana Herons. 



To describe in detail my first visit to this heronry is inadvisable for several 

 reasons. In the first place, we discovered later another heronry where a still 

 larger colony of Snowies is established; and moreover I made several subse- 

 quent visits to the two hammocks which were in some respects more satisfactory 

 than my first visit. It seems best, therefore, to describe collectively the results 

 of my various trips to these most interesting localities. 



The two little islands or hammocks upon which We found the Snowy Herons 



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