254 WILD WINGS 



inveigled it into alighting half a dozen different times where 

 I wanted it to and when I was at the end of my thread and 

 ready, which was more than I could have expected of the 

 obstreperous creature. 



The climax was capped in my Willet hunting when, on a key 

 off the South Carolina coast, I came upon a breeding colony of 

 these birds. For several miles there was a rather narrow ridge 

 of dry sand, with frequent clumps of grass or weeds, between 

 the sea on the one hand and the marsh on the other. Sev- 

 eral of us traversed this strip systematically, and every few 

 minutes a Willet would flutter out of a clump almost at our 

 feet, and disclose the frail nest of grass and the four hand- 

 somely marked, drab-olive eggs. During that day we cer- 

 tainly found fifty or sixty nests, and that by covering only 

 a small fraction of the territory. 



In some instances we saw the birds before they flushed. 

 They would then sit very close, believing themselves fully 

 concealed by the vegetation. One such I photographed at 

 close range, focusing the camera upon the tripod within two 

 feet of her, and taking timed exposures. These of course were 

 not wholly satisfactory, as the bird was largely hidden. Not 

 a stalk could be touched without flushing her. 



In some cases I tried opening up nests and visiting them 

 after the owners had returned. They became timid and self- 

 conscious, hardly allowing an approach within twenty feet. 

 After great trouble I secured a couple of not wholly satisfac- 

 tory exposures at long range. It was not till I tried the last 

 nest, just before we were to sail away, that I found the Willet 

 tamer, allowing me to secure a series of timed exposures with 

 my large lens w r ithin six feet, which amply repaid me for 

 all the effort I had made and the hot miles I had tramped. 

 Resting on the deck, as the favoring wind filled the white 

 sails and wafted me on to other new and exciting camera- 



