"As I advanced, I fell in with game; and I succeeded in bagging several,
both of the great wood-ibis and the white species. I also shot a fine
white-headed eagle (_Falco leucocephalus_), which came soaring over my
boat, unconscious of danger. But the bird which I most wanted seemed
that which could not be obtained. I wanted the scarlet ibis.
"I think I had rowed some three miles up-stream, and was about to take
in my oars and leave my boat to float back again, when I perceived that,
a little farther up, the bayou widened. Curiosity prompted me to
continue; and after pulling a few hundred strokes, I found myself at the
end of an oblong lake, a mile or so in length. It was deep, dark,
marshy around the shores, and full of alligators. I saw their ugly
forms and long serrated backs, as they floated about in all parts of it,
hungrily hunting for fish and eating one another; but all this was
nothing new, for I had witnessed similar scenes during the whole of my
excursion. What drew my attention most, was a small islet near the
middle of the lake, upon one end of which stood a row of upright forms
of a bright scarlet colour. These red creatures were the very objects I
was in search of. They might be flamingoes: I could not tell at that
distance. So much the better, if I could only succeed in getting a shot
at them; but these creatures are even more wary than the ibis; and as
the islet was low, and altogether without cover, it was not likely they
would allow me to come within range: nevertheless, I was determined to
make the attempt. I rowed up the lake, occasionally turning my head to
see if the game had taken the alarm. The sun was hot and dazzling; and
as the bright scarlet was magnified by refraction, I fancied for a long
time they were flamingoes. This fancy was dissipated as I drew near.
The outlines of the bills, like the blade of a sabre, convinced me they
were the ibis; besides, I now saw that they were less than three feet in
height, while the flamingoes stand five. There were a dozen of them in
all. These were balancing themselves, as is their usual habit, on one
leg, apparently asleep, or _buried in deep thought_. They were on the
upper extremity of the islet, while I was approaching it from below. It
was not above sixty yards across; and could I only reach the point
nearest me, I knew my gun would throw shot to kill at that distance. I
feared the stroke of the sculls would start them, and I pulled slowly
and cautiously. Perhaps the great heat--for it was as hot a day as I
can remember--had rendered them torpid or lazy. Whether or not, they
sat still until the cut-water of my skiff touched the bank of the islet.
I drew my gun up cautiously, took aim, and fired both barrels almost
simultaneously. When the smoke cleared out of my eyes, I saw that all
the birds had flown off except one, that lay stretched out by the edge
of the water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account