snow white bird which may have been a Whooping Crane
leading the van. This flock finally alighted in the mud.
  In a cypress swamp thickly hung with Tillandsia, a
barred Owl hooted repeatedly in the early afternoon.
  We started for home about four o'clock but had
gone only a little way when the setters struck
the trail of a running bevy of Quail. Before they
could work it out, however, Anderson, the guide,
rode into the midst of the bevy flushing it.
There were some ten birds only and all pitched into
low palmetto scrub after flying about 100 y[ar]ds. The
dogs came to a point together and seven or eight
Quail rose in quick succession. C[ory] shot down five
without a miss but only three were afterwards found
by the dogs. I killed my first, missed my second
and killed my third. A little further on I killed
two more single birds on Prince's point. Only one
that we started got away.
  The drive home was very pleasant, the air warm
and still and heavy with the smell of pines.
On the knolls there was a strong scent of dead
oak leaves reminding me of the north. At sunset
a Heron (A. wardi) passed us flying just above the
trees After it was nearly dark a Whippoorwill flew
from the sandy road rising just in front of the horses.
In the numerous marsh ponds a few "crackling" Hylas
were piping. We also heard a single note at short
intervals from one of the pools that I took to be
a bell frog.
  The setters ranging about in the scrub palmetto put
up a dozen or more Backman's finches. The scent
of this bird is very strong & our dogs often point them.