1 64 Bird -Lore 



Only once have I seen a pellet of fish-bones and scales being disgorged from 

 the bird's beak, as he sat on his hunting perch. These pellets are found wherever 

 the birds are accustomed to sit for any length of time. I once found one com- 

 pletely composed of various parts of the shell of a small crab. Only a few days 

 later I had the pleasure of seeing a crab actually caught. The bird captured 

 him by diving in the usual way and took him to a low rock where he proceeded 

 to bang him just as he would have done to a minnow. During this process the 

 crab, which measured an inch and a half sideways across the shell, lost several 

 legs and was dropped upon the rock, from which by a considerable effort he man- 

 aged to fall by scrambling to the edge with his remaining legs. The bird, perhaps 

 seeing that he was rather a large morsel to swallow whole, then forgot him com- 

 pletely and went on with his tishing. 



Two summers ago I found myself wishing intensely to photograph some of 

 these wild, frowsy-headed dwellers of the earth, the water and the skies. I 

 studied their favorite perches, my plan being to hide the camera near one of them, 

 but every one was unsuitable for my purpose. With sagacious caution they had 

 chosen spots which commanded a wide, open view on all sides, that no enemy 

 might approach them unseen. It was impossible to hide even so much as a folded 

 focusing cloth near most of these places, and many, in addition, were only in 

 the sunlight for a short part of each day, in spite of the broad view which they 

 afforded. At last I hit upon a plan. On a small island in Sagamore creek stood a 

 tiny shack, old and beaten by the elements until the wild creatures had no more 

 fear of it. One could sit inside this place early in the morning and listen to the 

 low, apparently conversational notes of the Crows, as the}' walked up and down 

 on the ridge-pole, or watch the shy Night Herons fishing in the water only a 

 few feet away. Here, too, the Kingfishers came very often to clatter and to fish 

 in the stunted cedar trees that protected one side of the blind. In the narrow 

 channel between the island and the mainland, where minnows abound, I stuck 

 an old tether-ball pole into the mud. On the island, near the pole, I placed an 

 ancient soap-box with a small hole in one end of it and, between the box and the 

 shack, I drove as many sticks with staples in them as I needed. After about 

 a month the box and the pf)lc had weathered enough to make the Kingfishers 

 no longer afraid of them. Then I placed the camera under the old box, the lens op- 

 posite the hole, and ran a thread from the shutter, through the staples, to my blind. 

 Morning after morning I visited the island shortly after sunrise and watched 

 the habits of the Kingfishers as they plied their fishing from my pole. Many a 

 minnow I saw go down their rapacious throats after undergoing a vigorous 

 chewing and banging in their vice-like beaks, and many a curious altitude did 

 I see them take as they clattered softly to themselves within a few feet of my eye. 

 And (luring this time I got a few good photograi)hs by the device already de- 

 scribed. 



