FRIENDS IN FEATHERS 



behind her, almost keeping pace, a tiny ball of down also invisibly 

 propelled. 



Pursuit began. The old bird at once took wing. Watching 

 the baby I darted here and there, and ran and ran. 



"Want help?" inquired my daughter from the carriage on the 

 road. 



'"Deed I do!" I panted, running faster. 



Molly-Cotton joined the chase. After repeated failures, 

 we caught him. We were breathless, dishevelled, while he was 

 not even "winded." He certainly was the most exquisite bird 

 baby I ever handled. His entire covering was of the softest, 

 silkiest down. On his head was a little tan cap, sprinkled with 

 pepper-and-salt, having a black band, chin strap, and a white 

 vizor. Around his throat was a broad snowy collar with a 

 narrow black tie. His coat and the upper half of his sleeves 

 were the same as his cap. The lower sleeve was white, separated 

 from the upper by a black band. His vest began snowy white at 

 the collar, then shaded through delicate gradations to an exquisite 

 salmon pink. He had a small neat long bill, long bare legs and 

 the big prominent eyes of the nocturnal feeder, for Killdeer feed 

 and fly at night when they choose. 



We expended what breath we had left in going into raptures 

 over his suit, and the sweetness of his baby voice. Then Molly- 

 Cotton held the bird while a camera was set up. She placed 

 him on the bank while I focussed sharply on his head and her 

 hands. Then I put in a quick plate, set the shutter at the one 

 hundredth of a second and told her to let him go. He went. 

 He had covered a rod before I sufficiently recovered from my sur- 

 prise to see that no exposure had been made. Then I realized 

 that a plate had been saved, for there would have been nothing 

 on it. 



No record was kept of the trials we gave him or the different 



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