276 Old White Wing 
were large, as were also a few basswoods which 
skirted its borders. It was getting late for the nesting 
of crows, and I had almost given up my search, when 
one day as I was sitting, well hidden from view, on 
the bank opposite this little ravine, watching a chip- 
munk at his spring house cleaning, I heard a low 
caw. I was all attention! A crow passed and entered 
the little ravine, and as it turned I caught a glimpse 
of white feathers. My energies were now renewed, 
and I determined to find the nest of this wary bird. 
I waited an hour, watching the entrance to the ravine, 
and was rewarded by seeing Old White Wing pass 
out. 
I had no designs on the life of Old White Wing or 
his family. Not a single feather on this noble bird 
should come to harm, if I could protect him, and 
the knowledge of his secret nesting place would be 
as sacred to me as to him; but what I wanted to 
learn was the location of his nest and how he cared 
for his family. 
The first thing that I must know was whether he 
had a definite route to and from the nest and when 
he was most likely to be at home. The next morning 
I prepared for an all-day’s stay in the woods. I 
reached my hiding place without being discovered, 
and soon afterward saw Old White Wing fly down 
