:::::::::C TWO BIRD-LOVERS IN MEXICO m::::::::: 



the other seven turned and followed. Their curved 

 bills and long legs were bright pink and gleamed viv- 

 idly, as the white cloud of birds winged its way north- 

 ward over the tops of the palms. 



Having need of the skin and skeleton of a Black 

 Hawk, I shot one of these birds not far from camp, 

 and only when too late, I found that it was one of a 

 pair which had built a nest overhanging the stream. 

 Shortly after the death of her mate (for my specimen 

 was a male bird) the female returned and alighted upon 

 the nest. It was built in the top of one of the liana- 

 encumbered trees, which was draped and hung with 

 a thick mass of entangled vine-cordage. By pulling 

 myself up these slender rope-like lianas, I was able to 

 look down into the structure, without once touching 

 the trunk or branches of the tree itself. The hawk 

 left the nest as I reached it. I found nearly a bushel 

 of rough sticks woven compactly together, and a thick 

 lining of fresh willow leaves had been recently added, 

 but there were no eggs. My regrets at having shot the 

 male were needless, for the very next day I found that 

 the bereaved bird had found a mate and both were 

 carrying more leaves to add to the lining. 



In this same tangle, there once came to us one of 

 those fortunate moments which remain so long in one's 

 mind ; one of those settings around which memory 

 groups the details and lesser happenings. A Belted 

 Kingfisher rattled on a branch overhead, and the sight 



-4 316 #* 



