We came to a tiny bayou, shaped like a bottle, from which four Little Blue Herons[34] flew as we approached. We placed our dug-out corklike athwart the mouth and anchored with our crossed paddles. The air was warm, bees hummed about the tiny four-parted flowers of the mangroves, and a great blue morpho butterfly flapped past, mirrored in the water beneath. Then came tragedy—never far off in this land of superabundant life. A small clay-colored crocodile made a sudden rush at a ripple, and a quartet of four-eyes shot from the water in frantic fear. One was slower than the rest, and the fierce jaws of the diminutive reptile just grazed him. Another fell back downward in the ooze, and in a twinkling was caught and dragged into the depths. No wonder the poor little four-eyes are ever on the lookout for danger and spend most of their time where they merge with the ripples along the shore, when such enemies are on the watch for them! A whir of wings sounded, and a Kingfisher[69] alighted within arm’s reach. But such a Kingfisher!—the veriest mite, clad in a robe of brilliant emerald and orange. So small was he that it seemed as if the tiniest of minnows must choke him. He seemed to be of the same opinion, for while we watched him he caught only the insects which passed him in mid-air or which were floating on the water. [Illustration: FIG. 7. FOUR-EYED FISH.] By far the most numerous, and in their way the most interesting of the mangroves’ inhabitants, were the crabs. There were untold millions of them, all small, all active and keen of vision. If we sat quietly, they would appear from everywhere, peeping out like little gnomes from their perches on the mangroves, forever playing their noiseless little fiddles. These tiny tree-folk not only played, but danced. Let us picture a scene constantly enacted, so close to us that we could all but touch the performers. Two crabs approach each other, now fiddling vigorously, now waving their diminutive pincers back and forth over their heads as a ballet-dancer waves her arms. They move never in straight lines, but sideways, now running back a few steps, now forward, until at last they meet, and each grasping the other’s claws, raises them aloft, and then for five minutes they circle about in most ludicrous imitation of a waltz. All this usually takes place on the _lower_ surface of a mangrove trunk, the inverted position apparently making no less secure the footing of the little dancers. We could not decide whether this performance was in the nature of courtship or just pure play.