224 On Lonely Bird Key 
but one egg, while other orders of birds, 
such as ducks and gallinaceous birds, rear 
very large families. The eggs of both these 
terns are about two inches long, of a buffy 
white, with reddish, markings. Generally 
the eggs of the noddy are sparingly marked 
around the larger end, while those of the 
sooty tern are more heavily and com- 
pletely spotted. Of all the thousands of 
nests of both species which I examined 
during my stay, only three or four nests 
of the: sooty tern held as many as two eggs. 
I soon found that, for breeding pur- 
poses, the two species had apportioned off 
the island into separate communities. 
The sooties naturally occupied the greater 
part of the island; the noddies had their 
reservation along the middle and northern 
part of the west shore, looking over 
toward Loggerhead light. To some ex- 
tent the species overlapped, and _ the 
sooties always felt free to fly over ‘‘noddy- 
land,” but there was no interference one 
with the other. I saw no fighting between 
the two species, as such, though any in- 
dividual bird of either kind resented 
intrusion by any other bird too near its 
nest. 
Living as we did right among the birds, 
there were splendid opportunities to ob- 
serve all the details of their interesting 
little lives. Both kinds were continually 
alighting upon the roofs of the buildings. 
Especially did they appropriate the ridge- 
poles as their roosts, and there were nearly 
always lines of them in evidence, both 
kinds peacefully intermingling. I watched 
the pretty home-life of the mates on and 
about the nests, their caressings, and even 
the dropping of the eggs. I was so busy 
photographing during my short stay, that 
I could not take time to watch protractedly 
the accustomed sequence of events, and I 
should have enjoyed remaining with the 
warden throughout the season, watching 
the life and progress of the colony. The 
climate of the Florida Keys is not oppres- 
sively hot, even in summer, just a de- 
lightful, equable condition that makes 
living and sleeping outdoors a constant 
delight. The rainy season was approach- 
ing, as occasional sudden showers began 
to show. But who would mind alternate 
showers and sunshine under such con- 
ditions ? 
Were it not for the sooty terns, this lone 
key would be a quiet spot. The great 
‘““men-o’-war,” seemingly adapted by 
nature for stentorian vocal efforts, are 
practically mute; the noddies also seem 
to have no note other than a weak little 
croak. But the sooties make up for 
other’s lacks with their clarion calls. 
Even when wholly undisturbed, their 
natural nervousness makes it impossible 
for them to be quiet. The great host is 
continually engaged in some alarm. By 
thousands they settle down to their nests 
or upon the sand. Some _ individual 
quarrels with another, and rises with an 
angry scream. A few neighbors take the 
alarm, and then, with furious uproar, 
thousands of wings are fluttering, and 
thousands of voices unite in a tremendous 
shout that seems almost to shake the Key 
upon its coral foundations. The racket 
at length fairly frightens the authors of it, 
and suddenly every voice is hushed in an 
absolute stillness which seems for an 
instant even more impressive than the 
din. But it is only for a moment; again 
the hubbub breaks out, if possible with 
redoubled vigor, as though they had let 
go only to take a stronger hold. All day 
long this goes on, and the visitor becomes 
accustomed to it, though he feels that he 
is being gradually deafened, and is losing 
the power to distinguish minor sounds. 
At dusk there is a general let-up, and 
most of the birds settle down to rest. Yet 
there are always some a-wing, and few 
moments pass without some sort of a cry. 
But it is only an individual voice that is 
heard instead of a chorus. 
The first thing, upon waking, is to phote- 
graph the man-o’-war birds. They have 
been sleeping on some bushes in pretty 
close company withus. Wedo not see them 
go to bed, for at dusk they are still soaring, 
but in the morning we find them quietly 
roosting, some of them not more than 
thirty or forty feet from our couches, on 
a clump of bushes very near the piazza. 
They are late risers, and sit there sleepily 
till some time after sunrise. So I quietly 
set up the camera upon the tripod, with the 
telephoto attachment, and get what views 
I wish, without alarming them, right from 
my very bed! 
At the northern end of the islazd, 
toward the fort, the sooties are partic. 
ularly numerous. They nest all over the 
dry sand above the beach, and every- 
where under the bushes farther back. 
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