38 
Brewster on Florida Birds. 
WITH THE BIRDS ON A FLORIDA RIVER. 
BY WILLIAM BREWSTER. 
On the 19th of March, 1877? the writer, in company with a 
friend, took passage on a little freight steamer which at long and 
irregular intervals ascended the Wekiva River with supplies for 
the few settlers at its source. The u Fox” certainly bore a most 
inappropriate name, for her best speed was but little over four 
miles an hour. She was, in fact, an old flat-boat, square at each 
end, after the usual fashion of her kind, and equipped with a 
small engine, which, judging from its dilapidated appearance, 
had probably spent its best years. in some saw-mill among the 
pineries. But from her light draught and low hull the rude 
craft was by no means ill-adapted to the navigation^ of a stream 
impeded by shallows and choked with fallen timber. 
After spending a tedious day in the descent of the St. Johns 
River from Mellonville we ente'red the Wekiva just as the sun 
was setting and at once found ourselves surrounded by scenery of 
the most novel and beautiful character. 
The short twilight of a Florida evening soon faded, however, 
and after a run of a‘ few miles we were obliged to make fast to 
the bank, for the stream is too narrow and tortuous to be safely 
navigated in the night. Later, the moon rose and her rays stream- 
ing down between the tree tops cast a soft light on the narrow strip 
of water that stretched away into the gloom like a shining path- 
way. In-shore everything was in deep shadow, save where a 
stray beam rested on a glistening lily leaf or silvered the drooping 
frond of a palmetto. The night air, fragrant with the breath of 
forest flowers, stole gently by — so gently that scarce a leaf was 
stirred, and the stillness was only broken by the innumerable noc- 
turnal voices that filled the woods. 
At intervals a Courlan \Aramus fiictus) sounded its harsh cry 
and the watchword, taken up by dozens of vigilant sentinals, was 
passed along the line of river thickets until it died in the distance. 
The hooting of the Barred Owls was almost incessant and the 
arches beneath the trees seemed to echo and prolong the hollow 
sound. Frequently two of them, after answering one another a 
