258 



THE OOLOGIST. 



The White-tailed Kite and Prairie Falcon in 

 California. 



White-tailed Kite, 

 There is perhaps, no more inspiring 

 a sight to the true ornithologist who 

 finds himself in the field oh a bright 

 spring clay, than the dashing flight of 

 some Hawk or Falcon in pursuit of its 

 prey, cr the wonderful evolutions it 

 performs in mid-air. There is a degree 

 of mystery attending the delicate pois- 

 ing of the Hummingbird above the 

 flower; there is something beautiful 

 about the Quail as it leaves its retreat 

 in the chapparal and is off with a whirr 

 to a place qf safety, and we all love and 

 admire the beautiful songs of 'our small 

 birds, but where is there an equal to our 

 sublime family of Eaptores? 



The White-tailed Kite is associated 

 with my earliest experience in Ornith- 

 ologyy. Some seven years ago I fell 

 prey to the mania of collecting birds 

 eggs, which was prevalent to a great 

 degree in my locality. At that time I 

 was spending a few months on my 

 uncle's ranch in Santa Clara county 

 with an Eastern cousin. It was in 

 June when the unsurpassable climate 

 and soil of California had caused a lux- 

 uriant growth of "suckers" to form on 

 the grapevines, and thenceforth life had 

 " no charms for me, as it was agreed by 

 all that I had talent in the line of pull- 

 ing the ''suckers" off the vines and ac- 

 cordingly the work fell to my lot. 



Next day I was installed in my posi- 

 tion, and as I worked back and forth 

 on the rows I had abundant time for 

 meditation. I speedly began to think 

 about my vacation, and came to the 

 conclusion that a half days' fishing 

 would be a grand thing.. That evening 

 I laid the plan before my cousin who 

 consented and the following afternoon 

 was named as the time. Without going 

 into details we did three days work in 

 one forenoon and were given the after- 

 noon as a token of appreciation. 



It was with light hearts that we- 

 swung our poles over our backs and 

 started up the dusty road for a certain 

 spot in the foot-hills. I was as enthus- 

 iastic an oologist as ever and though it 

 was somewhat late I kept an eye out 

 for nests. Finally we crossed a field of 

 grain which was thickly studded with 

 small black oaks and while carelessly 

 passing under a tree I noticed a Cali- 

 fornia Towbee's nest. I immediately 

 climbed the tree but the nest proved to 

 be an old one. Before descending, I 

 paused and gazed into the top of the 

 oak and the sight 1 saw was one I had' 

 met only in my most sanguine dreams. 

 There, not ten feet above me was a 

 large nest of sticks, and I lost no time- 

 in making the ascent. As I gazed over 

 the edge of the nest two half-grown 

 birds brustled their feathers and crowd- 

 ed to the farther side, while snapping 

 their beaks. In the center was one rot- 

 ten egg. I immediately announced to 

 my cousin, "two young chicken-hawks- 

 and a rotten egg." I argued that any 

 bird of prey that built a large nest of 

 sticks in a tree was a "chicken-hawk,*' 

 and was consequently seldom in doubt 

 as to identity. ' ■ 



The nest in question was about a foot 

 and half in diameter and was made en- 

 tirely of sticks and twigs from some 

 dead oak tree. The depression was 

 very shallow. It was placed in the ex- 

 treme top of the black oak tree, and 

 rested on the top of a bunch of limbs, 

 rather than in the fork of a single 

 branch. The nest was over twenty 

 feet from the ground and the tree was 

 easily climbed. The half-grown birds 

 showed tight and it was only by the 

 use of my fishing pole that I succeeded 

 in getting them to terra firma. During 

 the whole proceeding the parent birds- 

 did not show themselves and as stated I 

 concluded they- were "chicken hawks" 

 so we took them to a friends house two- 

 miles distaut and killed them, but I 

 very much regretted doing so after 1 

 had correctly identified the birds. 



