Le res Le UB OoNe Be als Vr, 13 
15 pair Louisiana herons, 5 pair Ward’s herons, 5 pair anhingas, a pair of 
Florida cormorants, 2 or 3 pair of turkey and black vultures, a pair each of 
wood duck and pileated woodpeckers. It presents an animated scene at 
nesting time when the adults come in steady streams bringing food for the 
young and ramming it down their gullets by regurgitation. One wonders 
how it is possible that the long, pointed bills do not pierce the anatomy of 
the youngsters. It came as a shock to me to see the young of the fine white 
ibises are almost entirely black. When these fine birds return to the island 
in the evening from the outlying sloughs and ponds, they present a glorious 
sight. They glide in on outstretched wings in squadron formation, with 
necks stretched forward. The egrets and herons are not nearly so attractive 
in flight. The American egrets and perhaps some ibises indulge in a peculiar 
performance. When they are above their roosting place of large bushes 
they frequently break their flight into a tumble downward, much as a marsh 
hawk above the incubating female. 
The island is also the roosting place of a flock of about 200 or more 
Florida crows. They drift in at eventide from several directions, alight on 
the largest trees, then suddenly, as if by command, they get up again, wheel 
about also in airplane-like formations, as if they wanted to show the ibises 
a thing or two, or as if they were rehearsing for a crow rodeo. At such 
times I have seen many of the lower stratum dip to the surface of the lake 
in true swallow fashion, as if drinking. But when nesting is over, one may 
row to the island and not see nor hear a bird, that is in daytime. The ibises 
leave in September, and in October even the crows were gone, also the 
anhingas, Ward’s herons, vultures, and most of the herons and egrets. In 
December and January one sees a small remnant winging its way to the 
island in the evening. 
In fact, this appearing and disappearing stunt is common here, even 
among the land birds. I have a number of regular boarders on my feeding 
shelf, but suddenly I notice that one or the other species is absent, also in 
the whole neighborhood. In October, and other times, too, such resident 
species as blue jay, redwing, red-bellied woodpecker, even the bobwhite, dis- 
appear, to just as suddenly turn up again. This is no migration, rather a 
roaming, roving around. But there seems to be some system to it. 
At the very least, one should be able to expect a plenitude of birds here 
in the winter. For is not the supposedly rich permanent population present 
then, plus the large numbers of migrants and winter residents from the 
north? It should be that way, but is not, at least not here in the center of 
the state both latitudinally and longitudinally. There may be such an 
imagined wealth of birdlife in places along the two coasts, and perhaps 
along the St. John’s River. Neither do waves of migrants come through our 
way, but only driblets of them. The reason is not far to seek, as indicated. 
The bird-highways and flyways are, no doubt, along the coasts. There are 
no rivers in the interior flowing north or south, excepting the one near the 
eastern coast. Here is a sample list from Windermere, which, with its 
variety of habitats, should be as good an observation points as most: 
August 19, small group of warblers passes through my live oaks (one to 
two sycamore warblers identified); September 10, 10 to 15 nighthawks; 
