BIRDS WITH A HANDICAP 



right up boldly and plant the camera within two feet 

 of her without alarming her. Once I was there after 

 sundown. Having taken a picture in the soft light, I 

 thought I would see if she would let me touch her, but 

 she gave a little hop and flutter and perched upon a 

 fallen branch close by the nest. There she sat motion- 

 less, not along the limb, as ordinarily, but almost, if 

 not quite, directly across it. Carefully I turned the 

 camera toward her, after hurriedly screwing on my lens 

 of longest focus, and moving the tripod slowly a little 

 nearer. It was so dark that I could hardly see to focus, 

 and it required quite a long exposure. I made two, 

 the longest and best as it proved taking two whole 

 minutes, yet the bird never winked or moved, giving me 

 a fine picture of an unusual sort. 



In the morning of the thirteenth of July, seventeen 

 days after I first found the nest, my friend saw a Whip- 

 poorwilPs eggshell lying in the road, two gunshots from 

 the nest, so he surmised that the eggs I was watching 

 had just hatched. Two days later I found the mother 

 brooding two queer little chicks covered with yellowish 

 down, right in the hollow where the eggs had been. 

 She was reluctant to leave them, and when she did 

 they scurried away a foot or two, and squatted in the 

 leaves. I photographed them at once, for I knew that 

 they were liable any day to scramble off, as one spot to 

 them is as good as another. It was well that I did so, 

 for when I came again, the next week, they had dis- 

 appeared. Sometimes, it is said, the mother removes 



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