THE ROBBERS OF THE FALLS 



concealed by the evergreen foliage that the wary hawks 

 paid no attention to it. Down the side hill, as far off 

 as I could see the nest through the woods, I pitched my 

 brown tent and left it there indefinitely. By rigging 

 my camera in place of the dummy, connecting it with 

 the tent by a thread and hiding there, I secured some 

 interesting pictures, after a number of attempts, and 

 long vigils. The mother hawk would perch on a 

 distant hemlock on the ridge of the mountain and 

 silently watch for over an hour. Then she would fly 

 off and be gone a couple of hours longer before return- 

 ing to the nest. One afternoon after watching steadily 

 for four hours from the peek hole in the tent, I fell asleep 

 — the only time I ever did such a thing afield. I only 

 dozed for a few minutes, but it was just at the critical 

 time, for the old hawk came and fed her young one 

 and flew off just as I had awakened and was in the act 

 of pulling the thread. The day was wasted, and I felt 

 unutterable things. However I tried again and again. 

 Another time the shutter stuck and made useless a 

 long vigil. But finally, after some rather poor expos- 

 ures, I snapped the keen and wary creature standing 

 quietly by her chick, enjoying its society — a beautiful 

 picture. Another day, as I watched, the old bird 

 came with a snake dangling from her claws. She 

 circled around three times, then hastily deposited the 

 snake and was off before I dared to pull, as I had set 

 the shutter for half a second. I watched for her return 

 for several hours, and then she came and proceeded to 



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