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hnnian beings when near their eggs, but I have never known them 

 actually strike, although they come uncomfortably near. 



On reaching her eggs, the Norfolk plover examined them, gave a 

 look at the tent, and settled down. I immediately pressed the Inilb 

 and secured my first photograph of this species. The sound of the 

 shutter, however, startled her, and she ran off" to cover, with her 

 head and body as low down as possible. 



The ensuing wait gave one time to think over and enjoy to the 

 full, the satisfaction of having seen the rare and wary bird at such 

 close quarters as six and a half feet, whereas in the ordinary way it 

 leaves its eggs when one is half a mile or so oft'. 



At the end of half an hour the female returned cautiously, and 

 was again the subject of attention of the tern, but beyond ducking 

 her head as before she paid no heed to it. I now made an exposure 

 as she was examining the eggs. She was again startled into run- 

 ning away, but the intervals between her return were now shorter, 

 and 1 had soon made my iifth exposure. This time she made no 

 movement, even when I reversed the slide. Then happened the 

 most astonishing thing of the morning. I had one plate left, and 

 thought 1 would like to secure a photograph of her approaching the 

 nest. In order, as I thought, to scare her oft', I coughed, but to my 

 surprise she took no notice. I whistled, still no response. 1 then 

 shouted, yelled and made all kinds of unearthly noises ; still no 

 movement, and one would have thought her deaf as the proverbial 

 doorpost. I then put my hand out of the tent and waved it about ; 

 all to no purpose. Time was going, and as I had to change plates 

 in order to operate on the common tern, I pressed the bulb and 

 secured a photograph of her as she sat dozing. I now emerged 

 from the back of the tent, and the bird's astonishment and subse- 

 quent retreat can be better imagined than described. 



Plate changing having been accomplished, I soon set to work on 

 a nest of the common tern, containing two young (one just hatched, 

 the other a day old), and an egg on the point of hatching, the beak 

 of the youngster showing through a hole in the shell. 



I had not long to wait for the return of the female, who seemed 

 very anxious for the welfare of the unhatched bird, and also for the 

 safety of the day old youngster which persisted in trying to run 

 from the nest to the shelter of some grass close by. Once under the 

 parent, however, it was kept there by the rather formidable looking 

 beak, to the accompaniment of some rather forcible bird language. 

 She constantly shifted her position, and eyed the lens with interest, 

 then turned her back on it, every now and then regarding it with 

 suspicion. The next bird operated on was a ringed plover, the 

 commonest, yet one of the most dainty and entertaining of shore 

 birds. While we were fixing up the tent some six and a half feet 

 from the four hard-set eggs lying on the shingle, I was deceived into 

 believing that I had an easy task on hand, as both the old birds 

 tripped daintily over the pebbles to within ten feet of where we 



