a Swamp aBeauti? 



just under the water wriggled a long, 

 shadowy neck and boat-shaped body. It 

 was the snake^bird, evidently quite una- 

 ware of my presence, playing one of its 

 favorite tricks, swimming, as a water-moc- 

 casin does, quite submerged, save its 

 acutely triangular head and beak ; and 

 a moment or two later it had climbed 

 with agile awkwardness to the top of a 

 cypress knee. 



For perhaps ten minutes I studied Plotus 

 through the glass, noting every move, 

 even to the leering turns of its cruel 

 eyes. Its attitudes were few. Most of 

 the time its neck formed a gentle re- 

 versed curve, the head and bill pointing 

 upward at a considerable angle; but it 

 had an eye on the water, and when a fish, 

 or some other attractive thing, came along, 

 down it plunged, making scarcely a sound, 

 disappearing in the midst of a dimpHng 

 swirl. Time and again it did this, promptly 

 returning to the cypress knee to resume 

 its watch. In repose the bird is beauti- 

 fully marked. The head is mottled dark 

 gray and black above, yellowish under 

 197 



