8 THE A UDU BON CBU C tiie 
pair of royal terns, and as I looked to see if they were there, I was 
amazed to see what appeared to be a tern with a vivid reddish orange 
breast. Excitedly I tried to recall some unfamiliar tropic bird, but as I 
reached for my binoculars it moved its head, and there was my royal tern. 
The illusion, of course, was due to the reflection of brilliant sunlight on 
the orange bill. 
Friday, April 16. — My lack of botanical knowledge is often a source 
of regret and nearly every day I am conscious of it here. One of the 
tew flowers I know is the hibiscus. There are six or eight beautiful colors 
and they grow profusely. We have them in fresh bouquets on the table 
at nearly every meal. The most unusual tree I have seen is a grappling 
fig. It is perhaps 25 feet high with wide spreading limbs, and the trunk 
has completely encased a cabbage palm with the exception of about five 
feet at the top. Consequently, the palm fronds seem to be growing in 
the tip of the fig tree. The most colorful tree, however, is called the tree 
of gold. Regardless of its proper botanical name, when the sun shines 
upon it, it has the appearance of a huge ball of gold. 
The hours spent at the boat house, like those on the water tower, 
always bring rewards. As I sat there this afternoon I was surprised to 
see a Ward’s heron fishing in the sound half-way between our beach and 
Useppa Island, which is nearly a mile away. Even at low tide it is 
difficult to understand how such large bodies of water can be so shallow. 
Turning towards the shore, I watched the solid masses of little fiddler 
crabs. When thousands of them scurried along in the same direction, it 
seemed as if a whole section of the beach were moving. 
Saturday, April 19. — This morning, after taking my last view from 
the water tower, Mr. Cooper and I went in the skiff for additional pictures 
of the eagles’ nest. When we returned, I took more pictures on the island; 
pictures of anything that would help us keep fresh the memories of these 
happy days with pleasant companions. 
With definite lack of enthusiasm, we boarded the boat to start home- 
ward. Boca Grande is north but the Sand Spur, as always, started out in 
the channel to the south, turned east and doubled back to the north. 
Then we had our last view of Cabbage Key across the sound. 
As I watched the dark green mangroves along the shore line and the 
graceful palms waving above them, it occurred to me that they are both 
symbols of the island. The mangroves constitute a symbol of the physical 
island, with everything organic, on or about it — a symbol of barnacles 
and fiddler crabs, fish crows and herons, cormorants and pelicans. The 
palm trees symbolize the island as a way of life — a way of life so 
different from that to which we are returning. 
ft ft a 
SOME PEOPLE seem born with eyes in their heads, and others with buttons 
or painted marbles, and no amount of science can make the one equal to 
the other in the art of seeing things.—John Burroughs. 
