A Prince of the House of Eagles 335 



that is so wet that no near approach can be made. It is enormous in size 

 but photographs having to be made from so great a distance fail to convey its 

 true dimensions. 



Mr. and Mrs. Craker visit the location every year and have seen the old 

 birds repairing the nest and later have seen them brooding the eggs and feeding 

 the young. After incubation begins, attention is constant, for one parent 

 does not leave the nest until the other arrives to take its place. The home- 

 coming of the Eagle is a wonderful sight. At first a mere speck in the dis- 

 tance, he flies in a direct line toward the home tree and on arrival soars around 

 overhead, uttering great screams until the sitting bird leaves, when he descends 

 to the nest and settles down softly upon the eggs which he moves about by 

 weaving slowly from side to side. 



Fearful that this pair of Eagles may be disturbed or destroyed, Mr. and 

 Mrs. Craker will not disclose to anyone the exact location of their aerie. Nor 

 will they release Me-giz-ze-was for fear of the hunter. Having experienced 

 nothing but kindness from humanity, Me-giz-ze-was is afraid of no one and 

 would be an easy mark for the gunman. 



Valley Quail and Road-Runners 



By ERNEST McGAFFEY. Hollywood, Calif. 



PAYT-EIGHT-O, payt-eight-o, payt-eight-o. It is the call of the Valley 

 Quail. I slip to my window in the faint dawning light that is creeping 

 over the Hollywood hills and peer down to the street below. Across 

 the street is a vacant lot which was lately adorned with a high growth of weeds. 

 Some philanthropist cut them all down, and the seeds have strown the ground 

 thick with succulent food for the Valley Quail. Payt-eight-o, payt-eight-o. 

 There the birds are, fully one hundred of them, some of them with heads bent 

 down among the shorn cover of weeds, others scurrying across the street with 

 that level, swift movement of the Quail afoot. The top-knots on their brown 

 heads bob back and forth as they pick and forage among the short stems of 

 the severed grass and weeds, all the while keeping up a sharp watch for any 

 intruders. 



Here comes a late-comer. He rises at the edge of the sidewalk and clears 

 the street a-wing, lighting with a little flurry among the other Quail, and 

 causing the same sort of fidgety attention that a new lady coming into a 

 sewing-circle will produce. But he settles down to picking industriously and 

 presently the entire conclave is huddled together closely, with one or two stray 

 birds apart from the rest. These blase members of the party, seem to be 

 oblivious to the tasteful weed-seeds and sometimes they ruffle their feathers 

 in a sort of 'plumagy' yawn. 



But softly. Hush! Slinking cautiously through the grass of an adjoining 

 yard comes a stealthy cat, intent on the feeding bevy on the vacant lot. He 



