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."
on his way to the nest with a pouch full of fish.
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."
