164 LAND BIRDS 
these two, neither one grudging the other his fine catch, 
and the more skilful the fishing the greater the admira- 
tion for the fisher, be he man or bird. On bold, free 
wings the Osprey comes swinging over the lake in the 
cool of the morning, and his clear whistle gives you 
“Good hunting” before he fairly comes into sight. 
Down he dives with wings folded. ‘There is a splash of 
silver spray and he rises triumphant, with a fish held 
lengthwise in his talons, and flies swiftly back to his 
nest. It is quite likely to be in that tall tree across the 
lake that has been his home for years. It is said that 
each fall, before leaving it, he carefully repairs it with 
fresh sticks, so that spring finds it ready for him. To 
make it in the first place was an arduous task, for it is 
a bulky platform of strong sticks, surmounted and inter- 
woven with smaller ones and carefully lined with leaves, 
moss, or soft vegetable fibre. Now the Osprey never 
alights on the ground when it is possible to avoid doing 
so; his method of obtaining these sticks is similar, though 
on a larger scale, to that by which the little chimney- 
swift gets his, — that is, by breaking them from the tree. 
But the Osprey does this with his feet, while the swift 
uses his bill. The former swoops down upon a dead 
twig with such force as to snap it off, sometimes with 
a loud crack, and flies with it to the chosen nesting-site. 
Some of these twigs are four feet long, and several efforts 
are necessary to break them. If he has the misfortune 
to drop one en route, he will not pick it up again, but 
with renewed energy will break off another. Hundreds 
of these twigs must be brought to fashion his strong nest, 
