THE YELLOW-BILLED CUCKOO 



"Different in what way?" I questioned. 



"Two," replied Bob. "This pair has fixed over that Robin- 

 iiest that was in the thicket before the Cabin last year. It is so 

 close the ground you can take it from a tripod, and one egg is 

 fully one-fourth larger than any of the others. Doesn't that 

 tempt you?" 



"Yes," I said. "It tempts me to try 'just one time more to 

 make a study of a brooding Cuckoo. I never before had a nest 

 where I could work on it from the ground. That is half the 

 battle. Then the plum-tree the Robin-nest was in is on the 

 edge of the thicket near the Cabin. The light is right in the morn- 

 ing. You have been going within a few yards of it for water three 

 and four times a day so the birds must have become accustomed 

 to you while they were repairing the nest and depositing the eggs. 

 If you want to do something for the good of the cause, educate 

 Mother Cuckoo until you can go where I would want to set a 

 camera without once causing her to desert." 



"I'll do it! "said Bob. 



"You'll do it!" I jeered. "Yes, it will be so easy!" 



I had as nearly given up photographing a grown Cuckoo as I 

 ever give up any bird of my territory. I was in the midst of the 

 busiest and the most aggravating season of field work I ever had 

 experienced on account of constant June rains, and I confess I 

 forgot the Cuckoo and did not even go to see her. A few days 

 later Bob came to me. 



"I can go within fifteen feet of that Cuckoo and make as 

 many motions as you would to take a picture," he said, "and 

 she sticks!" 



It would have been impolite to tell so old and trusted a friend 

 to my work that I could not believe him, but I scarcely could. 

 Taking a tripod I drove east to the Aspy farm at once. It was 

 about seven o'clock in the evening. 



209 



