WHAT I HAVE DONE WITH BIRDS 



south, directly away from the stake, limping, hopping and drag- 

 ging a wing to attract my attention. That trick had been familiar 

 to me ever since I could remember, so I went on toward the stake, 

 and, by the small spot which John had plowed around, easily 

 located the nest, or rather the eggs. 



There was very little nest to describe. On bare earth, sur- 

 rounded by a few bits of bark, corn-stalk and chips, all picked 

 up in the immediate vicinity, lay four tan-colored eggs thickly 

 sprinkled with dark brown and black, their sharp points nosing 

 together so that a stiff wind could not roll them away, a wise 

 provision of nature in case these improvident mothers neglect to 

 surround them by any barriers at all, as so often occurs. When a 

 few days of sunshine had dried the black earth about the nest 

 to the exact color of the eggs it would be impossible to distinguish 

 it from the surroundings. I hunted a stone and drove deeper the 

 stake which John had set up for guidance. Then arranging my 

 camera, practically on the ground, I made a study of the eggs at 

 once. I wanted it so much I was afraid of delay. There are 

 times when in summing up the dangers which menace the birds 

 from snakes, squirrels, Hawks, Crows, Jays, small animals, hunt- 

 ers, untaught children and the trampling and tearing of stock 

 which are browsing, it is really a marvel that a season produces the 

 number of young that it does. 



The next thing was to make friends with Mother Killdeer. 

 In the light of early experiences, with one brooding Killdeer in 

 particular, I had dreamed dreams and seen visions on my way 

 to that nest. I dreamed of becoming so well acquainted with 

 that mother bird that she would take a cricket from my fingers 

 and allow me to stroke her wing as she brooded, for I once had 

 done that with a bird of her kind. I saw a vision of pictures of 

 the brooding bird, and possibly one as she left her nest with her 



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