or 



FRIENDS IN FEATHERS 



pictured Kingfishers with quite such heavy big beaks, such 

 big eyes, such flaring crests. They seemed to me larger and 

 finer in every way; it may be imagination, yet I feel sure they 

 were. You can compare their pictures with others you have 

 seen, then decide for yourselves. 



At the first picturing of the babies, I tried twice, securing 

 good likenesses of them. The second time, some days later and 

 near the time when they would be going, I was assisted by Ray- 

 mond Miller, a young friend of mine who was born for a naturalist. 

 While focussing on these birds I explained to Raymond that two 

 were a small brood; frequently there were seven and eight in a 

 family. I said to him: 



"Wouldn't it be splendid if we had seven in this picture?" 



"I don't know," answered Raymond dubiously; "if there 

 were seven, people would get so mixed looking at all of them, they 

 never would see how cunning only two are." 



I knew that if I were ever to get snap shots at the old birds, 

 in all probability it would have to be while they were engrossed 

 with family cares. I never worked harder than I did over those 

 birds. Up one river-bank, down the other, across the swamp and 

 beside the Limberlost ditch I followed them, until I had located 

 fifty spots on stumps and dead branches, from which they fished 

 every day. Then to figure on lighting, where to set a camera, 

 where to conceal myself, whether I had the bird in range or would 

 waste my plate if I made an exposure : these were the next con- 

 siderations. 



Never was luck so surely with me. And never were pictures 

 so due to luck, pure and simple. Of all the stumps and dead 

 branches on which I had seen them perch, who could say on which 

 they would alight at their next coming? It was by the merest 

 chance that I guessed it, focussing mostly on points they visited. 

 There was extra grace granted me because I did not disturb 



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