The Yellow- throat 37 



cord. At a signal we skirted the opposite sides of the gar- 

 den on a dead run, brushing the grass tops with the rope. 

 Just as it switched across the lower end a yellow streak 

 flashed in the air like a rocket, and as quickly disappeared. 

 She never dreamed of a snake sweeping the grass tops at 

 such a lightning speed as that rope went. It scared her 

 witless. I walked over and saw her nest and four eggs 

 set down in the middle of a thick tussock. 



At last I had the little deceivers in my power. They 

 found me not such a cruel tyrant after all. They had 

 played me long, but now the game was mine, and the 

 minute they lost, they gave up deceitful methods. Day 

 after day the wife kept her vigil of love upon the spotted 

 eggs. 



We laid siege with the camera, but not in a way the 

 least obtrusive. A service-berry bush grew a few feet 

 away, which was a favorite perch of both parents. We 

 soon had a rampart of limbs built, from behind which the 

 camera was levelled at the bush. After covering every- 

 thing with green, and attaching a long hose and bulb to 

 the shutter, we were ready. The mother was on the nest 

 most of the time, but the father stayed about near at hand 

 and kept flitting back and forth, like a watchman on his 

 round. Catching his picture was just like waiting for a 

 bite on a lazy day at the river. But it was a good deal 

 more exciting when the fidgety father lit in the service- 

 bush. 



It takes patience to catch bird photographs. Patience 

 is the salt of the old bird-catching legend. You may have 

 to wait hours at a time. Often a whole day slips by with- 

 out getting a single good picture, but if you have had your 



