KNIGHTS OF THE CHISEL 



of the late afternoon sun, up in the spreading part of 

 the tree, with branches in front of the hole where a 

 camera could be remarkably well hidden. So, one 

 bright afternoon, I made a visit there. Madam Flicker 

 flew out, and I screwed up the small camera in f he 

 favorable spot, covering it with green branches, and 

 then, having attached the thread, hid behind the next 

 apple tree. In a short time I heard the Flicker's 

 "yawp." She flew from a tree near by directly to the 

 entrance of the hole, where she paused for an instant, 

 giving me a good chance for the exposure, and then 

 went in to her eggs without noticing the camera, or 

 paying more than momentary heed to the click of the 

 shutter. 



I walked off for a few minutes to let her warm her 

 eggs, and then, as I approached, a Flicker flew from 

 the tree. I changed the plate and then waited and 

 waited, but no bird came back. This was puzzling, 

 for everything seemed to be right, and I was pretty 

 well concealed. At last, just as I was about to go to 

 see if anything was wrong, a Flicker stuck its head out 

 of the nest hole, and then withdrew it, after I had pulled 

 the thread and got a good picture. I went to the camera 

 but no bird flew out. "Can it be," I thought, "that 

 the bird was a full-fledged young one, for it is only the 

 eighth of June?" However, I decided to make sure, 

 so I put my hand and arm into the hole. I could feel a 

 bird, but it did not peck or bite, so I drew it out by the 

 bill, though it hung back some. It was the mother 



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