WHAT I HAVE DONE WITH BIRDS 



did so exactly what I hoped they would do. Still I never have 

 seen any living or pictured Kingfishers with quite such heavy big 

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

 larger and finer in every way; it may be imagination, but yet I 

 am sure they were. You can compare their pictures with others 

 you have seen, and decide for yourself. 



At the first picturing of the babies, I tried twice and secured 

 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 friend of mine who was born for a naturalist. 

 While focusing 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 to go into this pic- 

 ture?" 



"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 just two are." 



I knew that if I was 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, and down the other, across the swamp 

 and along the Limberlost ditch I followed them, until I had lo- 

 cated 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 considerations. 



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

 more 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 



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