different, I may say, as the birds themselves. They, too, moved steadily
onward, north or south as the case might be, but fed as they went,
dropping into the shallow water between the incoming waves, and rising
again to escape the next breaker. The action was characteristic and
graceful, though often somewhat nervous and hurried. I noticed that the
birds commonly went by twos, but that may have been nothing more than a
coincidence. Beside these small surf gulls, never at all numerous, I
usually saw a few terns, and now and then one or two rather large gulls,
which, as well as I could make out, must have been the ring-billed. It
was a strange beach, I thought, where fish-hawks invariably outnumbered
both gulls and terns.

Of beach birds, properly so called, I saw none but sanderlings. They
were no novelty, but I always stopped to look at them; busy as ants,
running in a body down the beach after a receding wave, and the next
moment scampering back again with all speed before an incoming one. They
tolerated no near approach, but were at once on the wing for a long
flight up or down the coast, looking like a flock of snow-white birds as
they turned their under parts to the sun in rising above the breakers.
Their manner of feeding, with the head pitched forward, and a quick,
eager movement, as if they had eaten nothing for days, and were fearful
that their present bit of good fortune would not last, is strongly
characteristic, so that they can be recognized a long way off. As I have
said, they were the only true beach birds; but I rarely failed to see
one or two great blue herons playing that rôle. The first one filled me
with surprise. I had never thought of finding him in such a place; but
there he stood, and before I was done with Florida beaches I had come to
look upon him as one of their most constant _habitués_. In truth, this
largest of the herons is well-nigh omnipresent in Florida. Wherever
there is water, fresh or salt, he is certain to be met with sooner or