. Our search for a wilderness; an account of two ornithological expeditions to Venezuela and to British Guiana . rnoon in getting our floating home readyfor use. No more waves would be encountered, so every-thing was unlashed. Stereo-glasses, camera-plates, and am-munition were placed ready to hand; the galley stove wasmoved far forward, and a mosquito-proof tent of netting waserected under the tarpaulin in the stern. The sun had sunk low in the west when we saw a long,narrow dug-out canoe coming downstream. An Indianwoman and her baby were crouched in the bow, while in thestern a naked Indian
. Our search for a wilderness; an account of two ornithological expeditions to Venezuela and to British Guiana . rnoon in getting our floating home readyfor use. No more waves would be encountered, so every-thing was unlashed. Stereo-glasses, camera-plates, and am-munition were placed ready to hand; the galley stove wasmoved far forward, and a mosquito-proof tent of netting waserected under the tarpaulin in the stern. The sun had sunk low in the west when we saw a long,narrow dug-out canoe coming downstream. An Indianwoman and her baby were crouched in the bow, while in thestern a naked Indian paddled swiftly and silently. His skinshone like coppery bronze in the sunlight, his long black hairwas bound back from his face by a thong of hide. In frontof him rested a bow and arrows and a long fish-spear. Silentlyhe approached and in silence he passed — unheeding oursalutations. One more beauty of this wild wonderland was vouchsafedUS before night fell. We had bee n disappointed in the were the myriads of water-fowl of which we hadheard? We had seen nothing — not a single feather. But. 8 OUR SEARCH FOR A WILDERNESS. now the scene slowly changed. The tide was fallingrapidly, swirling and eddying past the boat, and the rootsof the mangroves began to protrude, their long stems shiningblack until the water dried from them. Mud-flats appeared,and suddenly, without warning, a living flame passed us —and we had seen our first Scarlet Ibis27.* Past the dark green background of mangrove foliage themagnificent bird flew swiftly — flaming with a brilliancewhich shamed any pigment of human art. Blood red,intensest vermilion, deepest scarlet — all fail to hint of theliving color of the bird. Before we could recover from ourdelight a flock of twenty followed, flying close together, withbills and feet scarlet like the plumage. They swerved fromtheir path and alighted on the mud close to the mangroves,and began feeding at once. Then a trio of snowy-whiteEgrets32 wi
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