112 Bird -Lore 



and gymnast, possesses no nerves at all, and can, in consequence, stand 

 on the very lip of a cliff a thousand feet sheer, as he would do on the 

 gutter edge of a sidewalk, and look straight below him. 



I would advise all who do not possess the above qualities, more 

 or less, to leave cliff photography severely alone, as walking back- 

 wards into a yawning abyss, even on the end of a good, stout rope, 

 feels uncommonly like stepping into eternity, and I would not like to 

 have the blood of any American cousin on my head. 



Upon reaching the edge of any precipice wherein we suspect, say 

 an Eagle, to be breeding, we step as close to the lip of the crag as 

 possible. I hold the revolver over my head, fire, and watch to see 

 where a bird flies out. Should one do so we mark the spot, drive 

 our crowbar into the ground above it, tie one end of the guide rope 

 securely to it and fling the rest down into the chasm below. The 

 photographer lashes his camera to his back, dons the three loops at 

 the end of the descending rope round his hips, the rope is then 

 passed once round the crowbar, and the assistant pays it out from 

 behind, whilst the photographer, steadying himself by means of the 

 guide-rope, literally walks backwards down the cliff. Before going 

 down, however, he takes good care to clear away all the loose stones 

 and rubble, for if he did not do so they would be sure to be dislodged 

 by the rope when he comes up. 



Upon reaching an eyrie, if it is situated on a ledge wide enough 

 to set the tripod of the camera on, he does so and makes his studies, 

 taking good care not to let go his ropes. 



If the nest should be on a ledge too narrow to set the apparatus 

 upon, my brother passes two of the legs of his tripod through a belt 

 round his waist and the third into any convenient crevice he can 

 find, and with his body practically at right angles to the face of the 

 crag and his camera almost resting on his chest, focusses and takes 

 his picture. 



I feel that I have barely touched the fringe of my subject in this 

 short article, but I have no doubt that to the man equipped with a 

 decent camera and a genuine love of nature, the hints I have given will 

 be sufficient to set him to work natural history picture-making, and, 

 as an old farmer, I know enough of American ingenuity in tool-making 

 to convince me that there is no bird or beast living in the western 

 world that cannot be photographed, living, loving, and laboring in its 

 free, open-air home. Any way, every reader of Bird-Lore has the 

 best wishes of the brothers Kearton. 



