4 THE AUDUBON YB U Lot eet 
bewildered at the infinite combinations of size, shape and color among the 
shells on this beach. 
AS we were preparing to leave, I caught the movement of a small bird 
in the distance. I walked to the spot where I had seen it, and was about 
to turn back, believing it had gone, when I was startled to see it standing 
quietly almost at my feet. The glare of the bright sunlight on the white 
sand and the light color of the bird had given it the same protection in 
the open that the brown woodcock has while probing among dead leaves 
in deep shadows. 
I was trying to identify my discovery as a semipalmated or piping 
plover, but its color was much lighter than either. Furthermore, the 
bill was long and entirely black and there was no neck band. Then I 
recalled one of the tips a friend had given me was to watch for the 
Cuban snowy plover — and that was my bird. 
On the return trip, I saw a Wilson’s plover and six Louisiana herons. 
These made a total of four birds in one day that I had not seen before. 
Thursday, April 10. — For the past three nights a chuck-will’s- 
widow has been calling from outside my bedroom window. It is not 
always possible to see it, but it sits on a lawn chair or on the grass below 
and calls, not “chuck-will’s-widow,” but “chuck-will-will” with such a 
strong accent on the vowel of the second “will” that it is slurred into 
two syllables. Last night the song began in the usual deliberate, regular 
tempo. I looked out of my darkened window just as another bird flew 
into the moonlight near the chair, and immediately the timing of the call 
doubled, which made it very rapid. I was curious as to whether this was 
caused by a male intruder or the presence of the female. A short time 
later, I could hear ‘“will-will” in the distance. The opening “chuck” is 
not audible unless the bird is reasonably close. 
This morning I went with Joe in the school boat, which corresponds 
to the school bus in rural communities. Joe picks up Taylor Stults and 
other children to take them to school on a neighboring island, returning 
to work on the boats or about the yard until school is out in the evening. 
On this trip I saw the biggest flock of man-o’-war birds to date: about 
50. Some were low enough for the orange gular sacks to be visible. I 
was hopeful that at least one of the birds would dive to the surface of the 
water to feed, but they continued to soar, though for the first time I saw 
one of them make two barely perceptible flaps of its great wings. 
Although these birds are no larger than a cormorant, the wing spread, 
according to Howell, is greater than that of the bald eagle, which is six to 
seven and one-half feet, while the man-o-’-war hawks, as the fishermen 
call them, have a spread of seven to eight feet. He also says: “their 
flight is perhaps the most marvelous example of perfect adjustment to 
aerial conditions in the bird world.” As a matter of fact, it is difficult to 
conceive voluntary movement in the animal kingdom executed with less 
effort. It is interesting to watch the tail in flight. One moment it is 
deeply forked like that of an swallow-tailed kite, and then like trick photog- 
raphy in motion pictures, it becomes long and pointed. 
