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tree and birch, a pair of Swallow-tailed Kites, 
(Elanoides forficatus), had chosen a nesting place. 
For many days I had watched their graceful 
flight here and there, over woods and waters, 
sometimes in search of food, and again carelessly 
sailing and darting about almost out of sight 
against the clouds. 
When late in May they began carrying material 
for a nest, I lost no time in the endeavor to find 
the location. By watching from my boat along 
the opposite shore, I could see them make fre- 
quent visits to a larch swamp at one end of the 
lake, from which they carried sticks a mile or 
more, keeping just among the tree tops. During 
the day they flew back and forth many times, 
but I failed to decide where they stopped, for 
they frequently let the burden fall, when they 
would fly about aimlessly. 
The next morning | climbed a tall tree near 
where the previous day had been spent, and had 
a much better view than from the water. The 
sun was driving away the morning fog, which 
hung about the trees in light waves. Long shore 
lines of sand and yellow canes appeared in the 
distance, broken by bordering hills. 
Soon a Kite passed over the trees with a long 
stick floating out behind, and after flying a mile 
or so it disappeared from view, Its mate had 
flown a short distance in advance and but little 
above, and now simply continued on its course. 
This was repeated time and time again until I 
was confident that I could go within forty rods of 
the tree which they were occupying, but, fearing 
that my presence might disturb them, I did not 
go for about a week. When I did return, many 
hours were spent in impatient watching ere a 
Kite was seen, and then it paused but an instant 
in its rapid flight past the spot where they had 
been before. In another hour it returned to pass 
swiftly away again. 
As it was time for the bird to be sitting, and as 
the male was doubtless carrying food to its mate, 
I came to ground, rowed to the opposite shore, 
three-fourths of a mile distant, and went in the 
direction as near as possible to do where marshes 
and tangled windfalls intervened. 
Choosing the upturned roots of a giant oak as 
a suitable hiding place, I concealed myself among 
some overhanging branches, and lay for four 
hours, being unable for all that time to catch 
sight or hearing of the Kites. Many pieces of 
larch sticks and long moss indicated, however, 
that the nest was near. 
returned to camp. 
The next day was hot and sultry, yet I re- 
mained from morning until sunset in the same 
Night came on, and I 
ORNITHOLOGIST 
[Vol. 11-No. 12 
place of concealment, with no better results than 
before. It is not an easy matter to go to a point 
in heavy woods seen from a distant elevation. 
However, the day following I climbed a very 
tall basswoud tree half a mile nearer than the first, 
and was soon rewarded by seeing the bird go di- 
rectly to the tree where the nest was. Then, with 
greater care, 1 approached the place and after a 
half hour the male bird came flying by me’ with 
some small object in his talons. He paused some 
fifteen rods beyond, and then darted out of sight. 
I therefore went nearer, the trees being so close 
together, and so densely leafy, that looking into 
their tops was a matter of much difficulty. While 
waiting for the return of the bird, and while I 
was peering among the branches, they were 
parted by a sudden breeze, and there, just before 
me, in a tall white birch, reposed the long sought 
nest, with the mother bird sitting upon it, not 
thirty yards from where I had waited two days. 
Any one familiar with birch woods will con- 
cede the difficulty in ascending their trim, tall 
trunks, without the aid of climbing irons. In 
this instance the nest was placed in the extreme 
top branches of a tree whose greatest diameter 
was less than twelve inches, with scarcely a 
dozen branches, and these close to the nest, which 
was borne fifty feet upwards, and swayed by the 
slightest breeze. 
A glance was sufficient to show that the nest 
could not be reached, as a man’s weight in the 
top would bend it to the ground. Fortunately 
strong young sugar maple tree grew near by, 
which I ascended. Then I drew the two trees 
together, forty feet from the ground, and bound 
them with a strong cord. The tree, thus rein- 
forced, was strong enough to bear my weight 
until the nest and its two valuable eggs were se- 
cured. The bird remained on the nest until I was 
well up the tree, and then flew close overhead, 
where it was soon joined by its mate; and both 
kept. up an incessant screaming. 
The nest consisted of small, dead larch branches, 
thickly interwoven with a long, fine moss, or 
lichen, found in great abundance on the larch 
everywhere in that region. This substance also 
formed a soft lining to the deep, well-shaped 
structure. In the nest were over two hundred 
separate pieces, which had been carried, one at a 
time, from a marsh a mile distant. It therefore 
required the travelling of four hundred miles to 
do the work; and there were certainly as many 
pieces strewn upon the ground as appeared in the 
nest. The birds also made long circuits while 
about the nest and at the swamp, where the ma- 
terial was gathered, so that no less than eight 
