MISS M. L. BUXTON ON A TRIP TO SPAIN. 
673 
so fast as they fed, they soon walked right away from us. 
W e then gave up the Camels for that day and returned home, 
seeing vast numbers of Ducks— mostly Pintail, Marbled Duck, 
and Mallard. Frequently we saw what looked like a small 
cloud on the horizon, which on closer inspection we found to 
be great numbers of birds, I think probably Ducks, but at that 
distance it was impossible to tell, anyway, there must have 
been thousands and thousands of them. 
The following day, the 22nd, on talking it over, the keepers 
thought we might see the Camels by riding across the Marismas, 
so at 10 o’clock we started off. We found a Stork’s nest at 
the top of one of the Cork Oaks which grow along the edge of 
the Marismas, and the lower branches of the tree were simply 
infested with Jackdaws, which live in colonies in the rotten 
boughs. We saw several Magpies’ nests also, built about 
a foot from the ground in the yellow Cistus bushes. After 
a little while we struck off across the Marismas, and for three 
hours kept up the same steady if somewhat slow pace. Then 
we came to a long strip of baked mud and a kind of bush 
Samphire growing on it, and looking through our glasses at 
every speck on the horizon, we saw to our joy two animals, 
that certainly were neither horses nor cattle. Riding on 
a little way they became quite unmistakable, two old Camels 
feeding among a lot of cattle. We rode on rather sideways 
to them, gradually getting nearer, and after having had 
a good look at them within about 500 yards, we rode straight at 
them, getting within a good 150 yards before they slowly 
began to move away. As soon as we stopped, however, they 
stopped, and so we had a very fine view of them, and indeed 
were most fortunate in doing so ; had we got off, no doubt they 
would have gone off long before. On our return we rode up 
to a Hock of Flamingos. There must have been several 
hundred of them, most of them asleep. They are a lovely 
pink when their wings are closed, but when they fly the 
almost crimson red of their wings is quite beautiful. They 
made a noise like a lot of old geese as we put them up. 
That evening as I was wading through one of the lagoons 
to look at a Coot’s nest, I felt something struggle under my 
