GREAT HORNED OWLS 321 



do this, but she did not. Then everything seemed to go 

 wrong ; the apparatus was not in perfect order, my footing 

 was precarious, and the wind was blowing. For over an hour 

 I fussed with the screw-bolt, clamps, and camera. At last it 

 was fixed ; I made four exposures, and should have descended 

 from the tree without alarming her had I not maintained 

 a shouted conversation with my companion who had been 

 hiding at a distance, which finally caused her to fly and reveal 

 her eggs. The vigil in the dark-room brought four good 

 pictures. But the sun had so glanced on the owl's back as to 

 make her appear almost white, and I decided that on an 

 overcast day I could do better work. So I made another 

 trip with a companion, walking boldly up with him to the 

 tree, climbing, and at my leisure securing a splendid series 

 of pictures. When I wanted to photograph the eggs, my 

 friend had to throw stones quite a while before the owl would 

 fly. 



From time to time I visited the nest again. The young 

 were safely hatched in the early part of April. From now on 

 the old bird became more and more shy, until one could not 

 approach anywhere near her. On the eighteenth of the 

 month, when the downy owlets were strong enough to sit 

 up, I photographed them. It was a windy day, when furious 

 gusts from the northwest made the tree on which I was bend 

 like a reed, and obliged me to hug it, and hang on for dear 

 life. I also succeeded in photographing the old owl several 

 times, as she returned to her young, by screwing the camera 

 up in a tree, attaching a two hundred-yard spool of black 

 linen thread to the shutter, and from my place of conceal- 

 ment farther up the mountain, lying behind a fallen trunk 

 for nearly an hour at a time, pulling the end of the thread, 

 as the owl returned to her accustomed branch before entering 

 the nest. 



