94 Birds of Lakeside and Prairie 



"sitting," however, I cannot forbear to tell of another 

 experience which befell two of us while we were hunting birds 

 with a camera. A pair of bluejays, early in May, 1901, built 

 a nest in an oak tree not more than five feet from the window 

 of a room in a Lake Forest home. The nest was below the 

 level of the window-sill and its interior was in plain view. 

 The birds, when building, paid little attention to observers 

 who sat in the window. Finally, however, when the eggs 

 were laid and Mrs. Jay had taken upon herself the task of 

 sitting, it was proposed to take a photograph of the nest and 

 bird through the overlooking window. Most people will 

 declare that nothing sweet in the way of sound ever issued 

 from the mouth of a bluejay. Nine-tenths of the year the 

 jay's jargon is a pain to the sensitive ear. During the rest of 

 the time, however, the jay has one liquid note which is as 

 pleasing as almost any of Nature's sounds. Master Jay 

 reserves this sweet syllable for the benefit of Miss Jay, whom 

 he hopes before May Day will consent to change her estate 

 in life. I think that I have heard the jay's voice at its best 

 and at its worst, but it was left for that morning when the 

 photograph of the nest in the oak tree was to be taken for a 

 certain Mrs. Jay to outdo in loudness, harshness, and extent 

 of vocabulary the vocal performance of any bird to which I 

 ever before had listened. 



It was the habit of Mr. Jay to come regularly and at short 

 intervals to the oak-tree home to feed his sitting spouse. 

 It happened just as the formidable-looking camera was being 

 adjusted and focused on the sitting bird that the husband 

 arrived with a tidbit for his wife. He saw the frowning instru- 

 ment and fled incontinently. Then it was proposed to wait 

 until he returned, so that a snap-shot might be made of both 



