The Audubon Societies 



297 



to myself that, if she would keep as quiet as that again, I could take a time exposure, 

 because a snap-shot would not be very good in so shady a place. Setting the camera 

 for a time picture, I went home for lunch. 



When I returned, I approached the nest very cautiously and came within fifteen 

 feet of the exact spot where I knew she would be crouched on the leaves, before I could 

 make out whether she was there or not. When the camera snapped, she did not move, 

 but remained quiet, with her eyes half closed. I had a field-glass and examined her 

 through it. The glass made her stand out more distinctly from the leaves, but even 

 then, if it had not been for her bright black eyes, I could scarcely have known that I 

 was looking at a live bird, so closely did her dark brown feathers, mottled with gray and 

 black, resemble patches of lichens, moss, and dead leaves. Even her short curved bill 



WHIP-POOR-WILL'S NEST AND EGGS 



was half hidden by a thin tuft of feathers. She squatted low on the ground, with her 

 large head drawn close to the body, looking like a half-decayed stump. It seemed a 

 pity to disturb her, but I wanted more pictures, so it had to be done. When she flew as 

 I approached, she seemed merely to spread her broad wings and rise without an effort. 

 With a few slow, silent wing-strokes she sailed off from twenty to thirty feet and dropped 

 to the leaves, instantly becoming invisible although in plain sight. As long as she 

 remained quiet I could not pick her out except with the aid of the glass, but every few 

 minutes she would give a low, hollow, subdued, cluck, and move one step nearer. Fit- 

 ting a fresh plate in the camera, I retired behind one of the rocks on the ledge not more 

 than twenty feet away, holding the bulb in my hand. In less than ten minutes I saw her 

 silently drop out of the air on to the eggs. Letting her remain quiet for half an hour 

 I secured another picture. After taking three views of the old bird in this way, I went 

 home and left her in peace. 



A week later I visited her again, but the eggs had not hatched. On the following 

 weekly visit, when she flew, there was nothing in sight but a few broken bits of egg- 



