THE YELLOW-BILLED CUCKOO 



or around the nests, and on all of the dozen negatives, which in- 

 clude liberal portions of surroundings, not a soiled leaf can be 

 seen. 



I stated in the introduction that in cases where the young were 

 similar to their elders and I had secured studies of them when 

 well grown, they would be used in preference to the grown birds, 

 because as a rule ten people out of every dozen who care for birds 

 prefer these unusual pictures of the young. Cuckoos are in this 

 list, but they should be taken out. In this instance I don't use the 

 pictures of the young for that reason. I should be most proud 

 to publish a reproduction of the grown Cuckoo, as I never have 

 seen one and should regard the picture an achievement. I have 

 tried and tried, times without number, but so far I always have 

 failed. The very nature of the bird makes failure in his case 

 almost certain. 



In the first place, their location makes a snap shot impossible, 

 and in the second their nature makes a time exposure equally so. 

 They always choose a secluded location where experience teaches 

 them that most likely they will be solitary. They select the 

 thickest place they can find, where leaves grow in masses, for 

 their nest. They are not so unfriendly. One can approach quite 

 close, but in the dense shade and surrounded by leaves as they are, 

 a picture is not possible unless time could be given, and it could 

 not, for the instant one pauses, the bird is gone with exactly the 

 same motion with which a big black water-snake glides from bush 

 to bush in dense underbrush. 



Jacob Studer says the Cuckoo is a "slipper," and the term fits 

 him to the life. He is indeed a slipper. The word seems coined to 

 describe this subject. The Brown Thrush can not equal him in 

 the graceful art of vanishing in deep shrubbery. So I never have 

 secured his likeness. 



The Cuckoo always is associated in my mind with deep, 



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