on the Birds of St. Croix. 
259 
Though most of the inhabitants know this bird by name, yet 
very few have seen it alive or dead. It is certainly not common 
in the island, but is probably a regular visitant, even if not a 
permanent resident. 
“ On my arrival in St. Croix in 1857, there was given to me 
the skin of a bird of this species, which had been shot, some 
years previously, on the borders of the large putrid pond on the 
south side of the island, called Krausse's Lagoon. It was re¬ 
garded as a very great curiosity, and justly so, since it was then 
probably the only bird-skin that had ever been prepared in 
St. Croix.”—A. N. 
“ This species only came under my observation on a few oc¬ 
casions, and always at the name locality, namely, Krausse's 
Lagoon. This lagoon is surrounded by a dense girdle of Man¬ 
groves, and clumps of the same trees stand out in the midst of 
the water, some of them forming islands (if islands they can be 
called where there is no terra Jirma, but only the network 
of their arching roots to afford a landing-place), or belts sub¬ 
dividing the lagoon into ponds of various sizes and shapes. The 
water is seldom more than two feet deep, in some places not two 
inches, so that every slight change, even of half a point, in the 
‘ Trade' alters the relative extent of mud and lake. Excepting 
the Mangroves, the shores of the lagoon may be said to be 
almost destitute of vegetation: there are no tall rushes, no bam¬ 
boos, no long reeds or grass; the Mangrove alone, but most 
luxuriantly, grows out of the mud. When embarked on the 
waters of this pool, so delightful to the eye, one's sense of 
smell is assailed by the most pungent odours, recalling remi¬ 
niscences of blowing eggs once fondly cherished but long since 
deserted by their rightful owners. They increase as every step 
taken by the naked negro who is pushing along the flat-bot¬ 
tomed ( bateau' stirs up the mud, and serve to excuse, if they 
do not require, the use of the strongest tobacco, to enable one 
to hold up one's head. Even the keenest sportsman or the 
most ardent ornithologist is almost prostrated by the horrible 
stench of sulphuretted hydrogen. But at length, on emerging 
from an opening in one of the innumerable belts of trees which 
intersect the lagoon, one's attention is attracted by three or four 
