WILD WINGS 
98 
make an exposure. Probably the noisy Sooties have already 
deafened them, for they do not seem to hear. Changing- 
j)lates, I again advance. When I am almost at the wharf, 
they start to fly, and just as part of them have launched out, 
I snap once more, and get an interesting picture — as it turns 
out. This can be done again and again. 
From here it is but a few steps to the main resort of the 
breeding Noddies. Most of their nests are upon the bushes 
just above the beach, or on bunches of cactus. Some of them 
Hy as we approach, but soon settle down again. Their quiet¬ 
ness is in strange contrast with the conduct and disposition 
of the Sooties. In photography, now, we may do practically 
anything we wish. Here is a nest where the male stands 
beside his mate as she broods. Possibly he may fly up, as we 
focus about a yard away ; but ere we are read}', he will be 
back, and the picture of the pretty pair is easily secured. 
Meanwhile, as we work, our coat brushes against another 
nest, with a sitting hen Noddy upon it. She does not fly, but 
bristles out her feathers, croaking her feeble remonstrance. 
I stroke her on the back, and as soon as she feels the touch, 
she is gone. But when the egg is nearly hatched, we could 
lift her off, and, replacing her, she would continue brooding 
without alarm, I am told, so overpowering is Nodd3^’s mater¬ 
nal passion. From this trait the great naturalist, Linnaeus, 
who named the species, called the Noddy Anoiis stolid us. 
Stupid fool, it means ; but I resent having any such scur¬ 
rilous epithet aj^j^lied to my pet. Will not the authorities 
kindly change the name ? 
So we might go on, as long as we wish, photographing 
Noddies — on the egg, beside the egg, tail cocked prettily 
aloft, mates caressing, looking down or up, the croaking, 
scolding posture, when Noddy strikes the attitude of the caw¬ 
ing crow (pretty little sea-crow), beside many other poses. 
