Hoge econ) bor NG eae Eataaly 5 
to other swamps to feed each day, so that the food near by may be left 
for the young. It is to Mr. McIlhenney that much credit is given for 
the restoration of these beautiful egrets to our southern swamps. 
A young woman in the employ of Mr. McIlhenney accompanied 
me to the farm a few miles from “Bird City,” where Mr. MclIlhenney 
is experimenting in the breeding of wild birds—principally, I under- 
stood, ducks and geese. On this farm, on which there is an artificial 
lake, [ saw several species of ducks, the greatest number being mallards. 
Canada geese and Richardson’s geese were nesting. But most inter- 
esting to me was a pair of sand-hill cranes. These cranes followed the 
keeper of the bird-farm around like a couple of dogs. Yet, when we two 
women approached the male crane darted out his long razor-like bill 
and would surely have given one of us an ugly stab had we not beaten a 
hasty retreat. However, they accepted the admonitions of their 
keeper without rebelling in the slightest degree. When one of the 
birds showed signs of attempting to drive us away the man spoke to 
the bird and threw his strong arm about the crane’s neck, holding it 
captive. The crane took the gesture as a love pat, and, for the time 
being, made no further attempt to attack us. The keeper gave the 
cranes a handful of grain as a reward of merit. Looking back, upon 
leaving, we saw the keeper going about his work with the two cranes 
at his heels. 
Persons living in the vicinity of Avery Island often tell visitors 
that Mr. MclIlhenney takes care of the preserve by means of pepper 
and salt. “How is that?” visitors naturally inquire. Strange as it 
may seem, under Avery Island is a solid rock of salt, extending hun- 
dreds of feet beneath the land and the water. Besides mining and sell- 
ing salt, Mr. McIlhenney manufactures a well-known brand of pepper 
sauce. And so the tale is true that Avery Island has been beautified 
and the egrets have been preserved for the enjoyment of future gen- 
erations by means of pepper and salt. 
Dallas, Texas. 
Cliff Swallows 
By VIOLET F. HAMMOND 
TO US who live in Beverly Hills the southwest section of so-called 
“Chicagoland” is truly lovely—forest preserve, bridle path, thicket of 
crabapple overshadowing woodland stream, and meadow studded with 
bluets and violets, purple and white. 
Across one of these meadows, on a May evening in 1930, we 
strolled, listening to the plaintive whistle of an Upland Plover. Here 
for the first time we noticed numbers of cliff swallows flying low 
over the field, then vanishing in a southerly direction. This could 
mean but one thing—a nesting colony. But where? 
Investigation of one or two farms answered the question. A 
fairly well established colony was found on the wall of an unpainted 
barn standing well back from the road. Colonies of cliff swallows 
are extremely rare in Cook County, hence, when we discovered this 
