Birds by Land and Sea 



upon revisiting the nest early the following day, the 

 bird was sitting again. I had marked on my camera 

 the requisite extension for focussing an object at four 

 yards, and likewise marked the rock at this distance 

 from the nest. Creeping round with the camera in 

 my hand, slide open and shutter set, I came to the 

 rock which I had marked. I then turned quietly at 

 right angles so as to face the nest, prepared to press 

 the bulb. As any one who has stalked a bird for its 

 picture an operation infinitely more delicate than 

 stalking it for its life knows, the moment was 

 supreme. But neither bird nor nest was visible. 

 Had I 'turned in the wrong direction ? I asked 

 myself. In some direction at a distance of four 

 paces from me I knew that the nest must surely be. 

 As my eye picked out the old landmarks, I became 

 aware of an indefinite something lying on the rock 

 a brown and grey patch such as might have been 

 presented by the weather-stained rock lying about. 

 Then the sequence of events was lost. The shutter 

 snapped, and the brown and grey patch became 

 animated at what seemed precisely the same instant, 

 and glancing noiselessly over the edge of the heap, 

 the nightjar was gone, leaving me to wonder if her 

 movement had been the cause of my snapping the 

 shutter, or if the snap of the shutter had caused her 

 to move. Only development could reveal the true 

 sequence of cause and effect. 



Looking back on the occurrence, I recall the first 

 image that came into my mind as that of a lizard 



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