Tampa, Fla.
Mon., March 23, 1926
We came to Tampa to look further into the phosphate business; our good luck held in finding a camping location. Passing through the city we followed the Tampa River until we came to a grove of moss-covered oaks--a charming location and secluded except for a large tent at one end of the woods. At first this seemed a handicap, but then we considered that if our neighbors were friendly, it might be useful to have their protection for our duffle when we went to town.
As it turned out they were most kind and helpful, the man saying his boss owned the land he was camping on and if any question arose about our camping where we were we could move over to their lot. His substantial tent, with a lot of trick contraptions, has a wooden floor and baseboard about three feet high. He lent us planks to build an outdoor table and bench, and gave us a bushel basket of oranges. We feel quite settled.
Every once in a while racing motorboats come speeding up the river on trial runs, and most all day airplanes from a nearby flying field circle overhead, making it hard to tell which sound is which.
Mockingbirds sing all day long and whippoorwills call every night. Bill is intrigued by the mockingbirds singing on the wing as well as at rest. Each song is different, sometimes harsh like a catbird’s or a red-winged blackbird’s and sometimes higher and sweeter than any canary’s. Frequently I couldn’t distinguish between a robin’s singing and a mockingbird mocking him. After the robins flew north, however, the mockingbirds no longer repeated their song. A little brown bird amused us, singing from a treetop, first a high note then a low one, while seesawing back and forth in rhythm. Many birds we do not know.