The Eagle of Mission Ridge 237 



move might land camera and all in the bed of the canon. 

 But for six different trips, extending over a period of two 

 months and a half, we took pictures from this position 

 and from the limbs near it. 



" Did the old eagle show fight? " is the first question 

 put by the usual listener. I always see a trace of disap- 

 pointment sweep over his face when he hears the answer. 

 The moment you speak of climbing to an eagle's aerie the 

 average man gets an idea of the photographer hanging to 

 the edge of a cliff or the top of a tree, with the old eagles 

 clawing out pound chunks at every swoop. Few eagles 

 possess the mad ferocity pictured and magnified by sen- 

 sational story tellers. When we first scrambled over 

 the bowlders of the canon up toward the nest, I saw 

 the old eagle slip quietly from her eggs and skim out 

 over the mountain top. When I strapped on the climb- 

 ers to ascend the tree, I had one eye open for trouble. 

 But each time we visited the spot the parents silently dis- 

 appeared, and stayed away as long as we cared to remain. 

 They kept a watchful eye, however, from the blue distance 

 overhead. For a noble bird like the eagle this forsaking 

 of the nest and young seemed cowardly at first. But 

 perhaps the long years of persecution have taught him 

 something. The first rule of safety of this pair seemed to 

 be to keep half a mile distant from man, the animal that 

 fights with neither beak nor claw. 



Our work at the eagles' nest shows well the necessity 

 of a good series of lenses when one is photographing in 

 the tree-tops. The camera was fastened in a crotch in an 

 adjoining tree, twenty feet from the nest, where it could 

 not be moved forward or back. By adjusting the wide- 



