THE PERIL OF THE SNOWY EGRETS
In the heart of a certain dense cypress swamp, in the middle South,
lies a pond of water, which is fed by many streams winding and
percolating their sluggish courses through the vast swamp lands. It
is lonely and wild there. This is what makes the place such a safe
retreat for the birds. Each spring they come back to this spot, the
wood ducks, the bitterns, the teal, and the little blue heron family.
Their flashing, brilliant plumage lights up the sombre darkness of
the jungles, while their strident cries make the spot less lonely.
Perhaps the little blue herons are the very noisiest of all. Wading
in the water on their stilt-like legs, searching for minnows or
crayfish, they are almost sure to have a quarrel if one of them gets
a prize fish, and then what a clamour they can make. Away off in the
swamp it sounds almost as if they were screaming back and forth,
"Tell you what, tell you what," over and over again.
One spring day after most of the birds had arrived at the pond,
peering skyward from their fishing, they saw two specks approaching.
Gradually the specks drew nearer and nearer, and finally, when they
reached the precise spot where they meant to settle, straight down,
like plummets, they fell, right into the swamp. Then all the other
birds set up a noisy, clamorous welcome, for the great Snowy Egrets,
the most important newcomers of the season, had arrived. Beautiful
beyond description is the great Snowy Egret. Snow white is its
exquisite plumage, that wherever it appears it lights up the dark,
gloomy swamps and jungles with its purity. The beak and legs of the
egret are black, its eyes a golden yellow, while from its back trails
a wonderful long spray of soft, snowy plumes, which float behind like
a white robe as it flies. These beautiful plumes are longer on the
mother bird, and at nesting time she uses them to cover the baby
egrets.
Having found a choice place in a stunted cypress, the egrets soon set
about their nest building, choosing a site about forty feet above the
swamp. Very affectionate and loving with each other are the egrets;
whenever the male bird leaves the cypress, on his return he makes
such a fuss over his mate, greeting her as joyfully and tenderly as
though he had been gone a week. In fact, the egrets are gentle,
trusting birds, and have few enemies among the wild. The father
egret does most of the hard work too, for he gathers all the twigs
for the nest, which the mother egret carefully builds. Taking turns,
the egrets sit upon the four eggs, and in eighteen days the little,
homely, featherless egrets appear, naked except for a few tufts of
down. This makes them very tender, and the mother egret covers them
over during the intense heat of the day with her soft trailing plumes.
At daybreak the father egret would fly off, returning with a crop or
pouch full of tiny fish, and while the mother was away getting her
own breakfast the young egrets were fed. Clinging to the edge of the
nest, father egret would stretch forth his long, snowy neck over the
little ones. And one by one he would produce the fish which he had
brought home, only partially swallowed, and which the little egrets
would gobble up quickly. It took such a quantity of food to satisfy
the baby egrets that the old birds made many, many, trips across the
swamp to the water during the day.
Now, although the desolate swamp country appeared deserted enough,
excepting for its bird and wild life, back on the edges of the vast
wilderness Italian families had located, to begin clearing up the
jungles of wild timber, and drain the swamp lands. So this is how it
happened that Tony and Papita, his small sister, came to live in the
swamps. Not a very pleasant place to live in, but their father and
mother were there, so they did not mind; besides, as Tony and his
sister were too young to work, they had fine times exploring
together. In the swamps they found plenty of wild, new things,
wonderful flowers, and long mosses, and queer toadstools. Tony came
across an old dugout one day, abandoned by some swamper, and then the
children began to go upon voyages of discovery. They paddled up and
down the narrow, sluggish streams which wound through the swamp, and
each day they would venture a little farther. They were never afraid
of the loneliness, or any wild thing they saw. Often a great snake
would slide heavily off a log into the water, as they stole by in the
old boat. At first Papita would shiver, but Tony always laughed at
her fears, and now she had become quite as brave at swamp sights as
her brother.
One day Tony almost thought himself lost; they found themselves in
such a dense, dark spot. At first there seemed no way of getting
through.
"We best turn back now, Tony," suggested Papita; "it's the end, I
think."
"No, see, the light comes through, soon--we go on a little further."
Tony paddled on manfully, and they leaned low to avoid the long,
snake-like vines of bamboo. Sure enough, a few tugs of the paddles
brought them right through the dark place, out into such a wonderful
new spot, they were glad they had kept on. At first such a noise
began around them, as the old boat shot through into the light, that
Tony and Papita were almost afraid, until they found out what it all
meant. Hawks whistled sharply overhead, and the air was filled with
water-fowl, which arose from a little island in the middle of the
pond they had entered. Wings flapped, there were harsh croaks on all
sides, while the blue herons set up their "Tell you what, tell you
what," cry.
The children stared about them in astonishment, and, as they stared,
a strange thing happened. Right out of the skies, so it first
appeared to Tony, a wonderful, snowy form came flying, trailing
behind it, what appeared to the children, a beautiful white robe.
Its great snowy wings were wide spread, and it finally settled in a
dark cypress, where its wonderful plumes shone out so pure and white
that both the children were awed by the strange sight. Now there was
one thing only which they knew about, and which they imagined bore a
faint resemblance to this white-winged thing: their mother treasured
an illuminated card with a pictured angel.
"Say, Tony," almost whispered Papita, "perhaps it is an _angel_."
"No, no," replied more sensible Tony. "It's a real bird, but a
_kind_ of angel bird perhaps."
[Illustration: ON HIS WAY TO THE NEST WITH A POUCH FULL OF FISH.]
Thus did Tony and his little sister catch their first sight of the
great Snowy Egret. After that, having once found their way to its
haunts, they often came to the hidden pond, to watch the egrets at
their nest-building, taking care never to alarm them. At first the
egrets, which are shy, did not like the children so near, especially
in nesting time. Often, the male egret would hover over the old
dugout, calling down impatiently, "Cruk, cruk, cruk," which meant
plainly enough, "Go away, go away, go away." But the children came
so often, that the egrets, even the blue heron tribes and other
water-fowl, became accustomed to the old boat, and did not mind its
coming and going.
It was an exciting time for the children when the little egrets came;
then Tony and Papita came every day. They watched the feeding of the
babies and heard the old egret call, "Cruk, cruk, cruk" on his way
back to the nest with a pouch full of little fish. Soon the little
egrets raised themselves in the nest and called back eagerly, "Kek,
kek, kek," which Tony said meant, "More, more, more."
And now comes the sad part of my story, but it must be told, because
every boy and girl should learn about the peril of the beautiful
Snowy Egret, and know what happened to these wonderful "angel birds"
which Tony and Papita so loved and watched.
It was Tony who learned about it first, so he told Papita one night
before they went to sleep, up aloft in their shack, where the stars
had a way of peeping in through the board roof and winking at them.
"Those men with guns, Papita, I don't like," complained Tony
bitterly. "They shoot all our birds in the swamp. Once I see _long,
white feathers_. They're angel bird feathers, I think, only not
white--no, all black with swamp mire. I see plenty and _some were
red_, Papita, red with blood. One man, the big one, he laugh and
say, 'Plenty money for these fine plumes.'"
"What for they get those angel bird feathers, Tony?" asked Papita
anxiously.
"Huh, I hear grand ladies buy white angel feathers, to make them
fine," replied Tony. "But _no one_ could ever be so beautiful as our
angel birds."
"Oh, Tony, what if these bad men shoot _our_ angel birds?" Papita's
voice trembled.
"I know, but wait; to-morrow we go at sunrise, quick, to the bird
place," spoke Tony.
As soon as they neared the bird island the next morning they knew
some one had broken through the jungles, for the vines were torn
aside and the birds, still disturbed, were circling and screaming
wildly about the pond. The first thing they looked for was the
egret's nest. Perched upon the edge of the nest were the baby egrets
alone, screaming shrilly, "Kek, kek, kek," calling vainly now for
their parents, and to be fed; they wanted their breakfast.
Tony and Papita waited some time, but in vain; the father and mother
egret did not come back to the nest.
"They don't come back ever, the big angel birds; but we go and look
for them, Papita. You see, the little ones are so hungry; they die
if we don't feed them." The children paddled up and down the swamp,
searching everywhere, and finally found the old egrets--all that the
plume hunters had left--just the two snowy bodies, from which the
beautiful, long aigrette plumes had been roughly torn.
"Oh, oh, what _can_ we do? The little ones wait; they so hungry,"
spoke Papita, her eyes full of tears.
"Papita, I tell you what--we, you and I, we be father and mother now
to these little angel birds. We bring the little fish, until they be
large enough to get for themselves. But first, we hide them, these
little ones."
"Oh, yes, yes, so no hunters find them, Tony," replied Papita,
seizing her paddle eagerly.
Back the children went to the cypress tree, where the little egrets
had been left alone to starve, and after much hard work, between
them, they finally took the birds in the dug-out to the little,
lonely island, where they placed them in an abandoned heron's nest,
over which they managed to build a rude sort of cage of long bamboos
to keep the birds from falling out. They had an old fishing net in
the boat, and succeeded in scooping up enough fish from the edges of
the pond to keep the little egrets from starving. The little things
were so very hungry that they fed readily, showing no fear, but
setting up a constant worrying "Kek, kek, kek" for more. Finally it
was time to go home, but the children visited the young egrets each
day faithfully. After feeding them, they would leave a supply of
fish on the edge of the nest. Soon the young egrets had grown
accustomed to the children, and became so tame that they would allow
their heads to be gently scratched by Papita. One of the birds, the
largest of the brood, would perch upon Tony's shoulder sometimes, to
his great joy. This was a very happy time for the children, and they
never wearied of watching their pets grow. The bamboo cage was
finally taken away, and the egrets were able to fish for themselves.
By early November they were almost full grown and Tony and Papita
knew that they would not stay upon the island much longer, for
already many of the other water-fowl had migrated to other and warmer
climes.
One night a light frost visited the swamp, and the next morning the
children came to the island, perhaps for the last time. They saw
that the egrets were showing much excitement, flying back and then
forth and screaming back to each other wildly, circling low over the
children's heads, then darting up again, curving their long, graceful
necks.
"Look, Papita! They like to tell us something--hear, they try to
speak; they don't hear me even when I call; see." Vainly Tony tried
to call the egrets to him. Usually, the large bird would come to him
willingly enough, but now, as they watched the big fellow, he began
to rise straight into the air, mounting ever higher and higher, and
they could hear him calling back for the others to follow. Then,
with wide-spread wings, the others mounted into the air, and then
they all sailed off together to find the warm, safe shelter of
another retreat, farther south. Tony and Papita, away down below
them in the swamp, stood hand in hand and watched them, until they
were lost to sight.
"They are gone from us, Tony," spoke Papita sadly.
"Yes, sister, but wait; another year they will come back to us, I
know; for the birds do always find the way back again. And think--we
_saved_ them, those little ones, which was a brave thing to do. Now
they are beautiful, big angel birds and their white plumes are safe."