THE CARDINAL GROSBEAK 



It was the finest place in the world to fluff and dry after his morn- 

 ing bath. No other spot was so to his liking for a sun-bath. 



The camera was concealed in the thick leaves of a papaw 

 bush a few feet away, a green strip was bound about the shining 

 brass of the lens, the camera was covered carefully with leaves and 

 the exposures made with a big bulb and long hose. 



A detailed story of all the time spent about these Cardinal 

 nests would fill a larger book than this, but a few incidents may 

 be interesting. There was no way to photograph a Cardinal with- 

 out a nest to lure him. How then was I to bring the big bird, 

 from the big egg I had found to account for him, up to his first 

 mating? I simply had to send him south, and as Cardinals 

 migrate, especially the young in their first winter, that was all 

 right. I thought seriously of going to Florida and trying my 

 luck, but I was overwhelmingly busy. How I did crave a shot 

 at that crimson bird on a waxy-green orange bough! There was 

 a nest location from which I had made several good pictures, for 

 the Cardinals had preempted the sumacs on this stretch of river- 

 bank for years, and there was plenty of sumac setting. But how 

 was a Cardinal ever to be found alone on something that would 

 answer for a southern tree for the opening of my story? 



Watering plants in my conservatory one day I snagged my 

 wrist on the thorn of a lemon tree. That solved my problem in a 

 hurry. Before night the tub containing that tree was worked 

 into the Cardinal's surroundings, covered with moss and grass, 

 and the tree so arranged that a good-sized limb replaced the perch 

 on which both male and female alighted on entering the nest. 

 The birds are accustomed to having all paths, save their trackless 

 one of air, changed with every passing wind-storm ; it was a limb 



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