March, 1919 
Forest and stream 
113 
The Egret is on the verge of extinction. Read what our native authorities have to say: 
“Tourists who went to Florida prior* to 1880 have told me of prairies white with Egrets, of 
bushy islands glistening in the sun-like snow banks. Now you may look for miles along a lake 
shore and perhaps in the distance see a solitary Egret, which as your approach, with a frightened 
squawk takes wing a rifle shot away. The rapid extermination of these plume-bearing birds i-i 
startling evidence of man's power in the animal world. At his word a species is almost im- 
mediately w’iped out. of existence. I have heard a plume hunter boast of killing three hundred 
Herons in a 'rookery' in one afternoon. Another proudly stated that he and his companions had 
killed one himdred and thirty thousand birds-— Herons, Egrets and Terns— during one Winter. 
THE DESTRUCTION OF THESE BIRDS IS A BLOT ON FLORIDA'S HISTORY." 
And again: — 
“The curse of these birds was the beautiful plumes or 'aigrettes' which they wear only in 
the nesting season and which, for this reason, have often been called the 'Bridal' plumes. The 
story of the destruction of these herons for their plumage is perhaps the most disheartening and 
certainly the saddest of any connected with the killing of wild biMs in this country. The herons 
and egrets nest in large colonies and the men employ^ by the feather dealers to obtain the 
plumes, visit these colonies when the nesting season is at it's height and when ihe mother love 
of the parent birds is so strong that no amount of shooting will make them leave the place. 
Here, usually with small, noiseless rifles the herons are shot down as they come in from the 
feeding ground with food for their young, as they sit upon their nests, or sometimes as they 
come in attracted by a wounded comrade tieti to a stake in the swamp as a decoy. 'Ihe plumes 
are then stripped from their backs and the bodies left to rot. Sad as this is. it is by no means 
the saddest part of the story. The young birds which occupy the nests at this season and which 
are of course entirely dependent on their parents for food, are left to starve to death after 
pitifully calling, sometimes for days, for their parents who lie in the swamp beneath with their 
backs tom out. that women may wear the looted plumes in their hats." 
dry caught him. Mr. King saw what 
had happened and slowed down the en- 
gine, while the two of them played with 
that fighting-mad barracuda. The Mac 
swung slowly around, and Hendry’s 
teeth clicked as he braced himself and 
brought in John’s prize. 
“Wow!” shouted John, “he’s first 
cousin to a man-eater. Look at those 
teeth.” He ended with a gurgle of dis- 
may as the guide delivered a blow with 
a hatchet that took some of the fight 
out of the big fish. 
“See mouth,” Hendry suggested, hold- 
ing it wide, and still convulsively jerk- 
ing, “sometime barracuda pulled in boat 
and cause lots trouble. Big teeth — like 
shark — long — make ugly wound. I see 
barracuda break man’s wrist when he 
thrash around. Crunch — very bad!” 
And then John’s delighted companion 
demonstrated how the three hooks did 
their work. That whirling strip of mul- 
t had been irresistible, but the last 
k had saved the day. It was seldom 
at they went further than the second. 
M r. king called a halt to further 
fishing, despite its allurements. 
They must make Round Key be- 
fore nightfall and the afternoon was 
waning. In any event, despite the bad 
luck at grouper fishing, the barracuda 
made up for the first disappointment 
and John, Jr., yielded to the call of the 
next camp. 
But the Mae's engine began to mis- 
behave again, shortly after the new 
start. Marco had provided new spark 
plugs and other requisites. That hole 
in the leaky cylinder, caused by rust, 
had never been adequately repaired. A 
new cylinder was really the only answer 
to the problem and Marco did not keep 
such a thing in stock. In order to make 
any headway at all, Mr. King saw it 
would be necessary to ^le out the old 
break and plug it with a larger peg 
of cypress. Cypress swells, when wet, 
and until it bums out, is not a bad 
makeshift. 
Things went monotonously and at four 
o’clock they were rolling pretty well in 
the roughening water, with no hope of 
an early get-a-way. It was then that 
they had their 
first glimpse of 
the “Spoonbill,” 
of Key West. 
Around from 
behind the but- 
ton-like mass that was Round Key, 
dimly seen to the southeast, came a boat. 
As she slowly approached, they made her 
out to be a sixty-foot, two-masted shar- 
pie, traveling under her own power, with 
sails reefed. She was dirty white in 
color and was totally unlike any craft 
they had seen along the Gulf Coast. 
Hendry, grease from head to foot, 
stood up astern, and watched her, with 
an expression of quiet interest. Mr. 
King and John were equally engrossed. 
What was it about this newcomer, that 
gave her marked individuality? They 
could not put it in words, yet they 
sensed it the mcmient she began to take 
definite form against the yellowing sky. 
Now she was off their starboard and 
obviously making for the Mae on a direct 
line. When within a hundred feet, she 
stopped and a short, stockily-built man 
could be seen atop the cabin, waving his 
hands. 
“Hello .... Hello, there!” a voice 
sounded across the water. 
An answering call was given. 
“Any extra gasoline?” inquired the 
stout person on the cabin of The Spoon- 
bill 
“Two freshly-filled drums,” was Mr. 
King’s reply. 
“Can we get five gallons from you 
.... it’s an emergency need.” continued 
the stout gentleman. “All out. — or near- 
ly so. It would be a real favor.” 
“We’ll let you have the gasoline for a 
return-favor,” said Mr. King, “engine 
trouble here .... hole in cylinder that 
lets in water. Can you tow us over to 
the lee of Round Kev? Don’t want to be 
caught ^ 
here at 
night.” ; 
The an - k 
swer was a 
prompt 
o n e . The small 
power boat they had 
been towing behind 
The Spoonbill was 
seen to put off and 
in a moment or so it 
came alongside, with 
a tow-line. The oc- 
cupant was a study in char- 
acter. This man, whom they 
had not seen before was an- 
gular, abominably dressed 
and with hair and beard that 
had not been clipped in many 
months. He was a veritable 
hermit; bronzed and weather- 
beaten. Methodically he 
tossed up the line and Hen- 
dry made it fast. A can had 
been brought for the gas- 
oline. Obvious it was that 
the stout person was taking 
no chances. Hendry did the 
honors and away sped the lit- 
tle power boat. Not a dozen 
words had been exchanged. 
“I wouldn’t call him ex- 
a c 1 1 y hospitable,” sniffed 
John, “wonder who he is and 
where he came from. That’s 
a grand make-up. If he had 
a cutlass and a sash he’d be 
a pirate.” 
t 
