240 American Birds 



the field-glass. But she slid off soon after and sailed away 

 when we started to climb the tree. 



Sixteen days later we were in the big sycamore again. 

 By that time the eaglets had grown from the size of an 

 egg to that of an ordinary chicken, but they had not begun 

 to change from the color of snowy white. They lay 

 crouched in the nest, clumsy in body, and watched us 

 angrily with their wild dark eyes. They resented my com- 

 pany when I climbed into the nest and planted the camera 

 right beside them. At that time they were not strong 

 enough to offer much resistance ; they could not help being 

 imposed upon. They endured silently, laying up wrath 

 for the days of strength when they could strike a blow 

 that would bring the blood. 



The growth of the young eagles was very slow but 

 steady. Fifteen days after our last visit we found that 

 the stiff, black feathers were beginning to push their way 

 through the thick coat of white down, and the eaglets 

 took on a mottled appearance. 



When we again started up the mountain to visit the 

 aerie we struck a heavy wind-storm driving down over 

 the hills. We could hardly climb in the teeth of the gale. 

 I can never forget the sensation as we crossed through the 

 last fields of standing grain. The wind cracked and lashed 

 the tall stalks till it seemed we were in the midst of rag- 

 ing waters. From the ridge we sat and watched the 

 enormous silvery serpents that wriggled up and down 

 through the standing grain, as gust after gust swept along 

 the slope. Where the grain had been cut and shocked 

 the gale created havoc by scattering it broadcast down 

 the mountain side. But the most difficult task was to 



