276 Old White Wing 



were large, as were also a few basswoods which 

 skirted its borders. It was getting late for the nesting 

 of crows, and I had almost given up my search, when 

 one day as I was sitting, well hidden from view, on 

 the bank opposite this little ravine, watching a chip- 

 munk at his spring house cleaning, I heard a low 

 caw. I was all attention! A crow passed and entered 

 the little ravine, and as it turned I caught a glimpse 

 of white feathers. My energies were now renewed, 

 and I determined to find the nest of this wary bird. 

 I waited an hour, watching the entrance to the ravine, 

 and was rewarded by seeing Old White Wing pass 

 out. 



I had no designs on the life of Old White Wing or 

 his family. Not a single feather on this noble bird 

 should come to harm, if I could protect him, and 

 the knowledge of his secret nesting place would be 

 as sacred to me as to him; but what I wanted to 

 learn was the location of his nest and how he cared 

 for his family. 



The first thing that I must know was whether he 

 had a definite route to and from the nest and when 

 he was most likely to be at home. The next morning 

 I prepared for an all-day's stay in the woods. I 

 reached my hiding place without being discovered, 

 and soon afterward saw Old White Wing fly down 



