THE OOLOGIST 



283 



in the morning and in tlie afternoon 

 we decided we would find the Part- 

 ridge nest without any more asking. 

 Tlie woods were not very large, and 

 we carefully hunted and had about- 

 given up when, just as we were com- 

 ing out of the woods we heard a slight 

 rustling and turned just in time to see 

 Mrs. Partridge leaving the nest — we 

 were within a few feet of it. It was 

 at the foot of a maple tree, and in 

 plain sight of anything that passed. 

 There were twelve or fourteen brown- 

 ish-buff colored eggs in the nest. The 

 nest was simply a hollow lined with 

 leaves. 



About a week ago we were at our 

 uncle's and he told us he had found 

 a Partridge nest with twelve eggs in 

 it, out in the west woods. Now, in 

 the ten years that have gone, I have 

 become a "Camera fiend", as some of 

 my friends now call me. Here was a 

 chance for a picture, I thought, so 

 next day I got permission to try it, if 

 I would get back as soon as I could. 

 I loaded up the No. 2A Brownie and 

 took my Vest Pocket Kodak and ask 

 ed my brother if he wanted to go; he 

 said he did, so we cranked up the 

 Overland and in about thirty-five min- 

 utes we were at uncle's. It didn't 

 take any urging to get him to say he 

 would show us the nest. 



They thought it best that I take the 

 auto and go out to my Friend Bill's 

 and get his five-by-seven camera, 

 which I did. While I was gone, they 

 thought they would go out to the 

 woods and I would come in on the 

 other side. I didn't expect to find 

 Bill home, but did, and it didn't take 

 very long to get some holders loaded. 



When we got to the woods the other 

 fellows were there. Uncle told us to 

 go quiet and we would probably see 

 the Partridge leave the nest. We 

 soon came to the nest and they gave 

 me the big camera and thought I 



might get a snap shot as she was 

 leaving. I nearly strained my eye- 

 sight trying to see the nest. The 

 other fellows kept telling me they 

 could see her head move, but I soon 

 discovered that it was a leaf moving 

 in the breeze instead of the bird. I 

 finally got clear up to the place where 

 my uncle said the nest was. Uncle 

 said he might have got mixed up, but 

 he was quite sure we were in the right 

 place; all at once he knelt down and 

 lifted up some cedar branches, and 

 there underneath was all that was left 

 of a once beautiful nest, just a hollow 

 in the ground lined with leaves. We 

 knew the eggs had not hatched, as 

 there weren't any shells scattered 

 around. We looked around closely, 

 and found quite a few feathers, wet 

 down by a yesterday's rain, and we 

 then knew that the little mother Part- 

 ridge had met her death as she was 

 covering her precious eggs. Uncle 

 was mad. "Some hanged old fox has 

 done this," he said; "if I kne'wt there 

 was a den of foxes in this wood, I 

 would dig them out to pay for this." 

 "It's against the law," I cautioned him. 

 "Well, I would be a law-breaker then," 

 he answered. 



As we were going out of the woods, 

 we heard a Partridge fly by, and it 

 was the drummer. We soon left for 

 home, feeling sorry about the little 

 tragedy that had been enacted there 

 in the lonely wood road. 

 Vermont. 



Owl Nesting on the Illinois. 



Big floods in Ohio and Indiana; 

 dangerously high water in Southern 

 Illinois; streams full everywhere. The 

 Illinois river was no exception and at 

 the end of the railway trip, the bridge 

 at Lacon being submerged to reach 

 the home of the Editor of THE OOLO- 

 GIST a motor-driven flatboat was 

 brought into requisition. It was a 



