CHAPTER IV
BIRDS OF A MORNING
An early December bird student in northern
Florida suffers from embarrassment of riches.
Never elsewhere have I seen so many varieties of
birds in such numbers. Never elsewhere have I
seen such abundant opportunities for watched
birds to hide themselves. The live-oaks range
from shrubs to huge trees, their dense, glossy
leaves reflecting the sunlight and making the
spaces behind them vague with shadows. These
may be full of birds; except for a twitter
or the flirt of a wing you would never know it.
One after another draws away the drapery of
Spanish moss from an entrance and slips in, or
a flock may whirl out and into another tree, portières
of gray lace opening to let them out, and
closing behind them as they enter.
I have spent many mornings trying to determine which bird is the first up. During the hot spell of two weeks ago, when the thermometer danced in the shade with the eighties all day and
